Trouble in Texas
by aliasfluffyone
Summary: Kid and Heyes and Trouble... you get the picture. Strangers in a strange town attract attention, and that can be trouble. Trying for amnesty days, cJun1880 -1888
1. Trouble in Red Rock

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me, nor does the song Buffalo Gals including the variation Dance With A Dolly. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same story verse as Kid Plans and South By Southeast, but should also stand alone.

Trouble in Red Rock

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"You see anything of Armendarez or his men?" asked Heyes quietly as the two former outlaws rode into Red Rock.

The moonlit streets appeared vacant. The muscular blond shook his head in exasperation. Kid tugged on the reins gently, turning the rented horse towards the livery stable. The blond looked left, then right. There was no sign of the livery man, or anyone actually. Kid dismounted, slid the wide door open, and led the horse inside toward the stalls.

"Now why would they stick around Red Rock?" asked Kid as he began to unsaddle the horse. "They got the bust and forty thousand dollars of our money."

"Now Kid," reminded Heyes, as he began to divest the sorrel of its well-worn gear, "only twenty thousand of that money was ours. Be glad the banker collected on his loan before we were robbed."

The baleful look Kid shot his direction might have given another man pause, but Heyes just grinned. A broad smile spread across his face, brown eyes twinkled. The corners of Kid's lips turned up in an answering grin. The blond curly head shook ruefully.

"Things could be worse I guess," admitted Kid.

"Yeah," chuckled Heyes. "Be glad our hotel room is paid up and our stage coach tickets are waiting for us at the station."

Kid's grin disappeared. The long legged man stepped out of the stall and moved toward the entrance of the livery stable. The darkened stage depot could be seen in the distance. The town seemed asleep. At this late in the evening, the only lights shining came from the hotel lobby and the saloon.

"But Heyes," hissed Kid, "the stage don't leave until Monday morning."

Eyebrows arched up playfully above dark brown eyes. The dimpled grin did not falter.

"Then I guess we've got time for a drink at the saloon," replied Heyes. "And maybe sleep in late tomorrow."

"Now you're talking," agreed Kid with a relieved grin.

The dark haired Kansan stepped forward to join his partner. Heyes threw an arm over Kid's shoulders and nudged his cousin forward.

"So how much money have you got?" asked Heyes.

Kid stopped walking. He shrugged his shoulders, loosening his partner's grip. The blond looked sideways at Heyes.

"How much money have you got?" responded Kid. "You know we're going to need horses again when we reach Clarendon."

"Yeah, almost makes me wish we hadn't traded in our horses," nodded Heyes in agreement.

"Now you say that," grumbled Kid with a disgusted snort.

"Almost," said Heyes with a quiet emphasis on the word.

Delivering Governor Hoyt's package to his daughter, had been a long, hard journey. After a short stay in Brownsville, the partners headed north by northwest following the Rio Grande. It wasn't until the former outlaws reached Red Rock, that they encountered any trouble. Heyes blamed the delay caused by their back and forth trips to Mexico during this little mix up with McCreedy and Armendarez as the reason he wanted to take the stage north, but truthfully, Heyes wanted to hurry north. He would feel a lot better when he had Kid back out of Texas. He turned to face Kid directly. Moonlight lit up his smiling face.

"And we'll need other supplies," continued Heyes, "coffee, hardtack, beans…"

"Heyes," growled Kid in a low voice.

"Maybe some bacon," continued the silver tongued wonder.

"Heyes!" snapped Kid. The melodious list of trail supplies stopped abruptly. "How much money do you have?"

Heyes took off his hat. Flipping the black felted head covering over, he ran a slender finger along the inside lining tugging at a loosened seam. Folded lengthwise and tucked securely inside were three twenty dollar national bank notes. Heyes then withdrew an empty leather billfold from the upper inside pocket of his jacket. Holding both paper currency and billfold in one hand, Heyes reached into his bottom coat pocket. He withdrew a silver dollar and two dimes, then thrust everything towards Kid.

"Hold this a minute," said Heyes. He patted the other side of his coat, then turned the bottom pocket inside out. The dark haired man tilted his head upwards, he closed his eyes in concentration as he pressed against the lining. Wiggling the coins up to the little hole in his pocket, Heyes dug out the elusive coins. With a sound of triumph, he announced, "Three Indian head pennies."

"Not enough for a good horse," responded Kid. The muscular young man held hat, billfold and money out towards Heyes.

"Good enough for an almost good horse," objected Heyes.

The former outlaw leader brushed his hand through his dark hair, plucked his hat from Kid's grasp and settled it back upon his head before retrieving his funds. "Now, how much money do you have?"

His partner had a silver dollar, three silver dimes and two shield nickels in his pocket. The Kid's wallet contained a variety of bank notes. Two twenties from the First National Bank at Butte Montana, two tens from the First National Bank at Bismarck North Dakota, three fives that had travelled all the way from New Jersey, and a two dollar bank note from Emporia Kansas.

"Enough for another almost good horse," said Heyes with a grin. "What about your emergency fund Kid?"

The blue eyes looked hard at Heyes. One hand automatically dropped to his gun belt. Kid touched the cartridge casing that he sometimes used to hide money. Heyes couldn't figure out how his cousin managed to fold and roll the paper money up so tightly and cram it inside.

"Enough for half a horse," said Kid.

"Good," replied Heyes. He clapped a hand on Kids shoulder blades. "Then you're buying the first round."

"Did you count your lucky coin?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Saturday night in the Red Rock saloon was just as loud and raucous as it had been the last time they had been there, but this time the partners weren't riding high on a successful job completed. Mr. Smith and Mr. Jones leaned up against the bar.

"What'll it be boys?" shouted the bartender over the loud music.

Rowdy men clapped in rhythm to the music of the harmonium. Across the room, three dancing girls stomped and kicked up their heels on an impromptu table top stage.

"Two beers," answered Kid.

The bartender looked confused. Kid started to shout, but then thought better of it. Kid held up two fingers. The bartender nodded.

"Just a minute," shouted the bartender.

Heyes turned around. He leaned back, resting his elbows on the bar and looked around the room. Heyes spotted a familiar face. The blonde woman he'd been kissing so enjoyably on his previous visit was staring, smiling first at him, then her eyes moved. Heyes turned his head to follow the line of her gaze. The woman's sharp blue eyes focused on Kid as he carefully counted out two dimes and a nickel for their beers. Heyes turned back in time to see the woman's smile drop. She quickly turned her back on Joshua Smith. The loud music stopped.

"Joshua," said Kid softly, "don't let her get to you."

Heyes looked up to find Kid holding a beer mug out towards him. Blue eyes looked at him sympathetically. Heyes picked up his mug and took a big gulp.

"Don't know what you're talking about Thaddeus," replied Heyes. The blonde woman's rejection stung. Heyes would rather no one, not even his partner, know. He smiled broadly and smacked his lips. "That hits the spot."

Laughter sounded as the dancers jumped down from the tables and began to move among the saloon patrons. One pretty saloon dancer with shapely legs rushed to Kid's side.

"Oh Thaddeus," gushed the brunette breathlessly, "you're back! I thought you were leaving."

"Miss Dolly," greeted Kid. He touched his hand to the brim of his hat and then nodded towards Heyes. "My partner and I had a change of plans."

"Oh that's wonderful!" responded Dolly enthusiastically. Her ample chest heaved up and down with her inhalations and exhalations. "Now we have time for that dance lesson I promised you!"

Heyes almost choked on the beer he continued to drink. Kid's blue eyes opened wide. The younger Kansan looked at his partner. Heyes smirked as he realized that Dolly was pulling on Kid's arm.

"Don't let me keep you Thaddeus," replied Heyes. He nodded in the direction of the green felt tables. "I'm going to see if I can get in on a card game."

As Heyes walked off, he could hear Kid's objections.

"But really," protested Kid, "I'll step on your toes! I have two left feet."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"I guess it's just not my night," sighed Heyes.

He threw in his cards. The busted flush landed beside several empty shot glasses. Although Heyes hadn't lost much in this penny ante game, he decided there was no use continuing. He wasn't going to risk the money he and Kid needed for horses. The winner bought another round of drinks, whisky again. As Heyes sipped from the small shot glass, he looked around the saloon. Kid and the dancer were nowhere to be seen. Had the woman really gotten Kid to agree to a dance lesson?

"Goodnight gents," said Heyes as he rose from the table. "I'm calling it a night."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Oooh," moaned Heyes.

His head was pounding. He licked his lips. His tongue felt thick and his teeth felt fuzzy. The former outlaw blinked his dark brown eyes in the dim moonlight streaming in from the window. The squeaky hinge protested again as the door to the hotel room opened further. Heyes reached for his pistol hanging from the gun belt draped over his bedpost.

"Kid," hissed Heyes in a low voice, "is that you?"

His partner tiptoed into view. The blond carried his boots in one hand. The lightweight leather jacket Kid had been wearing most frequently since they had left Colorado was draped over his arm. Kid's gun belt was slung over his left shoulder, and his blue shirt was untucked.

"Sssh," whispered Kid. Heyes slipped his gun back into the leather holster as Kid set his boots down beside the other bed. "Go back to sleep."

"Did you dance by the light of the moon?" asked Heyes in a sleepy tone. "How was your dance lesson?"

Kid's face lit up with a soft smile. The quiet man draped his gun belt over the headboard and began unbuttoning his shirt.

"Not bad, Dolly taught me a slow dance," answered Kid. "She wanted to try something faster, but I don't think I'm ever gonna be fast enough to dance a jig like Pa and Grampa Curry used to."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

_The memory of Grampa Curry dancing a jig at the last Christmas social the Curry and Heyes families attended was suddenly sharp and clear in Heyes mind. The crowded school room was converted. Desks lined the walls and were piled high with cakes, pies, cookies, and a punch bowl. The center of the room was open. The fiddle struck a note. Grampa, his once curly red hair now mostly gray, strode out to the center of the space. The tall older man wore a black button down dress shirt, soft gray trousers and short black boots. Grampa Curry placed his hands on his hips and flashed a dimpled smile. The fiddle began to play. Grampa's feet flashed, left, right, up, down. The fiddle sounded faster and the beating pulse of the bodhrán echoed through the room. _

"_Owen," called Grampa as the music changed tempo._

_Jed's father, Owen Curry, joined Grampa. The two men kicked, stomped and spun in time with the music. Another change of tempo._

"_Finn," called Grampa. _

_There was a moment of confusion. Hannibal didn't know anyone named Finn, but then Hannibal's own father, Arthur Heyes, joined the Curry men. Arms linked together, the three men finished the jig. As the music slowed, Aunt Mary went to join her husband in a slow sweet swirl around the room. Arthur Heyes returned to stand between his wife and son. Grampa left the floor and stood in front of a pair of admiring grandsons._

"_Grampa," pleaded little Jedidiah with a happy smile, "I wanna dance too!"_

_The old man shot a glance at the dance floor now crowded with couples swaying to a slower song. Then, Grampa crooked a finger and beckoned the boys to follow him. Outside, in the village street, Grampa started teaching Jed and Han the intricacies of an Irish jig. Little feet flashed left and right, heels kicked up and back, in an effort to keep up with the hearty old man. They were all laughing when the first snowflakes began to fall. _

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Heyes blinked. His tall cousin stood before him looking like a younger, blond, blue eyed version of Grampa Curry.

"Talent might run in the family Kid," said Heyes. "You never know."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

When Heyes next woke up broad daylight was streaming in through the windowpanes. His headache was gone and so was Kid. The slender dark haired man reached for his black trousers. By the time Heyes pulled on his clothes, the door squeaked again. Heyes whirled around to face the opening door. Kid stood there holding a cup of steaming coffee.

"How's your head?" asked Kid. The blond held the cup out towards Heyes. "The coffee is not as strong as you make it, but it's all the hotel has."

Heyes reached out for the proffered cup. He closed his eyes and sniffed. A tentative scalding sip was swallowed, then one gulp, quickly followed by another. The heat burned down through Heyes chest, warming him. Heyes opened his eyes. A smile spread across his face. Dark brown eyes twinkled. Heyes almost felt human again. His blue eyed partner smiled back.

"Don't worry Kid," replied Heyes. "The diner makes stronger coffee."

"It's Sunday," reminded Kid. "The diner is closed."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"We're checking out," insisted Heyes.

"We got the three dollars for the room Heyes," objected Kid.

"It's the principal of the thing," huffed Heyes as he shoved his shirt into the worn saddlebag. "Raising the rates just because it's Sunday! That's robbery!"

"Well I guess we'd know Heyes," smirked Kid.

Heyes froze at Kid's words. Then his lips curled up in a grin.

"Yeah Kid," agreed Heyes with a chuckle. "I guess we would."

After leaving their saddles, saddlebags and bedrolls at the vacant stage depot, the partners headed to one of the few open establishments in town. The saloon was quiet. On Sunday, no liquor was served and no poker playing allowed. Chairs were up on tabletops and the floor was being mopped. Heyes and Curry settled in around a card table grateful for hard boiled eggs and to be out of the hot sun. Big Mac arrived shortly before supper time. One of the privileges of owning the saloon appeared to be the ability to obtain a steak dinner, or three, on demand.

"Eat up boys," urged the jovial businessman. Big Mac waved at the plates being set on the table. Steak threatened to overflow the edge of the plate, mashed potatoes and green beans crowded on top. "Least I could do after all the work you boys have done for me."

Big Mac's first request for the partners to go back to Mexico for the bust occurred before Heyes had even cut into his steak. Big Mac continued cajoling Heyes and Curry to return to Mexico. Kid ate steadily, somehow he managed to put food in his mouth every time McCreedy asked a question. This tactic left the talking to Heyes. When Kid's steak was halfway gone, the pretty dancer arrived at the table. The woman leaned down and began whispering in Kid's ear. Big Mac knew a lost cause when he saw one. The business man turned to focus on Heyes. The former outlaw pushed some green beans around on the plate with his fork as he listened to the Texan.

"No sir Mr. McCreedy," replied Heyes finally. The rich man's continued prodding got to the slender man. Heyes set the fork down abruptly, pushed his chair back and rose from the table. "Now if you will excuse me, I've got to get to the stage master's office."

Heyes stalked off without waiting for his partner. He couldn't listen anymore.

"What?" asked Big Mac. He turned to look at Kid. Kid was staring at Heyes' plate. The food was hardly touched. "The stage master's office is closed on Sunday."

"We know, stage doesn't run on Sunday," replied Kid, "but we're on the first coach out tomorrow morning."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Fifty thousand?" muttered Heyes again in disbelief as the Monday morning stage pulled out of Red Rock.

Beside him, his partner gave a disgusted snort. Kid Curry picked up his floppy brown hat from the empty seat beside him and scooted away from the dark haired former outlaw. The long limbed blond leaned into the corner of the stage coach seat resting his head against the wooden back panel. Sprawling his legs diagonally out across the vacant floorboards, Kid plopped the hat down over his eyes.

"You don't want to talk about this?" asked Heyes. One eyebrow arched up quizzically as he watched his younger cousin settle in. "Are you seriously going to sleep now? Most people stay up in the morning."

"Heyes, we ain't going against Senor Armendarez again," murmured Kid. "I'm tired, I was up all night and we've got a long ride ahead of us."

"We should have stayed in the hotel last night," grumbled Heyes.

"That's what I said," reminded Kid with a sigh, "but you didn't want to spend the money."

"We need horses when we get to Clarendon," replied Heyes.

"And supplies." Kid nodded in agreement, then he yawned.

"The bench in front of the stage master's office was hard," huffed Heyes. The slender man folded his arms across his chest.

"At least you got some sleep," responded Kid.

"How would you know?" asked Heyes in a sour tone. "I didn't see you at the stage master's office."

"That's 'cause you were snoring, had your eyes closed," replied Kid. A big boned hand pulled the brown hat down lower. "Nearly thought I'd have to shoot a wild cat to keep it from pouncing on you."

"A wild cat?" asked a startled Heyes. Brown eyes blinked in surprise. "In Red Rock?"

"Be glad the critter was mainly interested in your hat," murmured Kid with a small chuckle as he slouched even lower in the seat.

"That little kitten!" exclaimed Heyes. Awakening this morning, he had found his hat beneath the bench occupied by one tiny feline. "You wouldn't shoot a cat."

"Course not Heyes, but you oughta thank me, I kept watch last night," continued Kid. "Now lemme sleep."

Heyes stared at his cousin. He might have known, Kid always had his back. Another big yawn was followed by a sleepy mutter.

"Wake me up if there's any trouble."

-x-x-x-x-x-x


	2. Trouble in Clarendon

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same story verse as Kid Plans and South By Southeast, but should also stand alone.

Trouble in Clarendon

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Careful there," called Mr. Monroe.

Heyes looked out the window of the stage in time to see the man reaching upwards for a bulky valise. The dark haired former outlaw followed plump Mrs. Haversham out of the stagecoach. He and Kid had been lucky enough to have the stage to themselves for the first leg of the long journey from Red Rock to Clarendon. At the next stop, the Monroe family, father, mother, two little girls, and several large pieces of luggage including a small crate marked for delivery to the Clarendon News, joined. The last stop Monday afternoon picked up the elderly Havershams with two carpetbags. Eight passengers crowded inside, politely trying not to elbow each other, until the driver finally stopped for the night at a way station. After breakfast this morning, Kid joined the driver and the luggage on the roof for the last leg of the trip.

"Augh," groaned Heyes. The slender man stepped away from the stage, placed his hands on his hips and arched his back. If there had been room for another man on the rooftop, Heyes would have joined his cousin.

"Joshua," called Kid.

Heyes looked up. Kid handed down the last large valise to Mr. Monroe and reached for a flowered carpetbag. Mr. Haversham waited expectantly beside the young newspaperman.

"Come over here," urged Kid, "After I give Mr. Haversham his carpetbags, I'll hand down our gear."

Ten minutes later, the crowd around the stage was gone. The Monroe family disappeared into the doorway of a nearby building labeled with an ornate sign _Clarendon News_. Across the street, Mr. Haversham could be seen dropping carpetbags in order to open the hotel door for his wife. And two hungry, dust covered men stood next to two saddles, holding two nearly empty saddlebags and blanket rolls. Heyes nodded in the direction of the livery stables.

"Why don't you go see about getting us some horses," suggested Heyes. He jerked his thumb in the direction of the mercantile. "I'll buy food for the trail."

"No, I'm hungry," objected Kid. The tall blond pointed towards the diner just beyond the stage master's office. "Dinner first, then horses and supplies."

Heyes lips curled up in a smile. The coffee and biscuits provided at the way station this morning hadn't met his cousin's definition of a good breakfast, nor Mrs. Monroe's. The woman managed to obtain some eggs for her daughters, but the way station was awaiting supplies. Everyone else counted themselves lucky to have biscuits.

"All right Thaddeus," agreed Heyes, the two men turned towards the restaurant. "Dinner in town, then horses and supplies so we can leave."

Staying in Clarendon long enough to get a meal couldn't hurt, right?

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Heyes poked at the sliced carrots with his fork, gently pushing the overcooked vegetable to one side of the plate. Across the blue and white checkered tablecloth, his partner swallowed another bite of chicken.

"Hey…, Joshua," corrected Kid, "you ain't still fretting over that blonde from the Red Rock Saloon, are you?"

"What?" asked Heyes, brown eyes opened wide in surprise. He certainly wasn't going to let his cousin know he was definitely not thinking about that blonde. "What woman? What are you talking about?"

Kid's eyes narrowed in that way that told Heyes his cousin knew Heyes was trying to pull one over on him. The younger man leaned forward and dropped his voice to a whisper.

"I saw what she did Saturday night," answered Kid.

The woman hadn't done anything more than frown and turn away, thought Heyes. It wasn't like they had been courting and she'd run off with another man. Heyes had never seen the woman before coming to Red Rock and now would likely never see her again.

"It's like you always warn me, some women really aren't interested in you as a person," continued Kid.

Brown eyes opened wider. Heyes could remember warning his younger cousin about certain amorous ladies, some women just wanted to be able to say they'd been with a famous outlaw. At the time, Heyes thought Kid didn't pay any attention.

"It ain't nothin' personal," reminded Kid, his compassionate blue eyes drilled into Heyes. "She's alone in the world and got to make a living, and in a saloon, it's the men with spending money get attention."

"Money?" asked Heyes.

"Yeah Joshua, you weren't flashing bank notes left and right Saturday night," answered Kid softly. "She turned away when she saw I was counting out nickels and dimes to pay for our beers."

Heyes blinked, remembering. Was that it? Had the blonde's rejection been merely based on money? The blonde woman in Red Rock hadn't known he was Hannibal Heyes, famous outlaw leader, thought Heyes, she had just thought he was an ordinary man named Joshua Smith. And that was what hurt, realized Heyes. He had thought she liked him, thought she kissed him, because she liked Joshua Smith.

"Thaddeus," asked Heyes with a grin, "how did you learn so much about women?"

Heyes thrust a forkful of pototoes into his mouth and began to chew as Kid sat back in his chair. A relieved grin lit up the blond's face. Blue eyes twinkled.

"Well," answered Kid, "You and Clem taught me almost everything I know about women."

Heyes nearly choked. His face reddened as he swallowed and reached for the water glass.

"I don't know that much about women," spluttered Heyes as he gulped water, trying to still his coughing, "and I can only imagine what Clem might have told you."

Kid slid his own water glass across the table towards Heyes. The former outlaw leader reached for the additional water gratefully.

"From listening to both of you, the only thing I figure I'm ever gonna know for sure, is that I ain't never gonna understand women," responded Kid. "The only thing I can do, is appreciate 'em, and if they need something… try and help them if I can."

The coughing finally stilled. Heyes smiled across the table at his cousin. It was hard sometimes to understand how such a gentle man, could also be such a dangerous man. Jedidiah, soft spoken, slow to anger, and Kid, always alert for danger, the fastest gun hand that Heyes had ever seen. Most people only saw the dangerous outlaw. Heyes was one of the few people to know the real Jed Curry, the mixture of good and bad that made the man. Would the amnesty allow the real Jed Curry out into the open?

"When did you get to be so smart?" asked Heyes as he picked up his fork again and began to eat his dinner.

"Come by it natural," answered Kid with a grin. "Brains run in the family just like curly hair and dimples."

"Well you did get one thing wrong though," objected Heyes with a smirk. "I ain't interested in that woman from Red Rock. Blondes are nothing but trouble."

"Hey!" squawked Kid, "I've got blond hair."

"See," grinned Heyes, "just proves my point."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"I think I'll pass on pie," replied Heyes with a distracted smile to the waitress.

Brown eyes winked at a freckle faced girl peeking between chair slats at Heyes from the next table. Their travelling companions, the Monroe family had arrived at the diner when Kid ordered a second helping of fried chicken and mashed potatoes with gravy. The newspaperman and his wife had warmly greeted Mr. Smith and Mr. Jones, before sitting their family down at the next table. Now, little Becky Sue hurriedly turned around and sat back in her seat properly as befitted a young lady all of seven years old.

"Apple pie sounds mighty tempting," said Kid.

Heyes' attention snapped back to his own table. Brown eyes now stared in disbelief at his partner.

"Thaddeus, we really should be going," prompted Heyes with a nod in the direction of the newest arrival at the diner.

Kid seemed oblivious to the presence of the deputy. The wide eyed young man stood by the doorway, hat in hands, and looked around the diner eagerly. The deputy's eyes settled on the fair haired waitress discussing desserts with Kid.

"But peach cobbler sounds even better," continued Kid. "I'll have that."

The waitress flashed a bright smile at Kid before waving at the deputy. She departed towards the kitchen. Heyes sighed.

"Dessert?" hissed Heyes across the table. "We should be getting out of here."

Kid looked surprised at Heyes' impatience. The younger Kansan opened his mouth to speak, but then shut it abruptly as the waitress returned. The pretty young woman set a plate of yellow peaches and golden brown topping smelling of cinnamon and nutmeg in front of Kid, then she hurried towards deputy. Heyes heard her greet the deputy by his first name and direct him to a nearby table. Kid leaned forward.

"If you're in such an all fired hurry, don't wait, just go," responded Kid. "I'll meet you at the livery after I've finished."

"Did you see…" began Heyes.

"Yes Joshua," answered Kid quietly. "I saw, and I aim to finish my peach cobbler in peace, before I do anything else."

Heyes set back in his seat with a huff. He crossed his arms across his chest and looked around the crowded diner. The deputy was smiling at the pretty waitress, totally unconcerned with two of the most famous outlaws in the west and whether they were or were not eating peach cobbler. And Kid wasn't worried. The tension drained from Heyes' shoulders. They had a long trail ride ahead of them. Cobbler wasn't likely to be on the menu any time soon.

"Fine," responded Heyes. "Don't take too long."

Heyes left Kid to finish his dessert and settle up their dinner bill. A little bell tinkled as the slender dark haired man opened the door and hurried outside. Heyes stopped for a moment and held the door for a portly, middle-aged man in a black suit as he limped into the restaurant.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Thank you sir," replied Heyes as he accepted the change from his purchase.

The dark haired man picked up his packages and stepped outside the mercantile. Heyes looked down the street. Kid wasn't standing outside the livery. In front of the doorway, the stableman was slouched in his chair and appeared to be sleeping.

"Kid, are you still in the diner?" an exasperated Heyes muttered under his breath. "You better not have ordered the apple pie too."

Heyes crossed the street to peer in the diner's front window. He froze. Kid was standing beside the serving counter with his hands raised in the air. A bucket sat on the floor by his feet. The mop handle sticking out if it rested against the counter beside him. The portly man Heyes had seen earlier was pointing at Kid and appeared to be shouting although Heyes couldn't hear him. Worse yet, the deputy held a shaky pistol pointed at Kid. Heyes clutched his bag of supplies closer to his chest and moved to the front door. The bell tinkled again as Heyes opened the door. The glare Kid quickly shot across the room told Heyes in no uncertain terms to get, but Heyes stepped inside.

"Arrest him I tell you," shouted the rotund man, his face turning red with the exclamation as he continued to point at the blond former outlaw. "He's Kid Curry!"

"Now sir, you are mistaken," responded Kid quite calmly. "My name is Thaddeus Jones…"

"You're Kid Curry, the outlaw," exploded the red faced man indignantly. "A no good gunslinger that shoots…"

Behind Kid, the fair haired waitress appeared coming out of the kitchen holding a package wrapped up in brown paper and tied with string.

"Eula Mae," called the deputy anxiously, "would you please step away from the man?"

"Claude," exclaimed the waitress, "what are you doing pointing a gun in here? People can get hurt!"

"Eula Mae…"

"Ma'am…"

Both Kid and the deputy spoke at once, urging the young woman to move. Several things happened simultaneously. The portly man moved to one side. The deputy did a two step towards the waitress. Kid side stepped them both, his hands remaining raised. The bucket fell over with a thump spewing water across the floor. The mop handle cracked loudly as it landed. Kid stepped to one side again. He slipped in the water. Arms flailed. The curly haired blond fell backwards. The sound of a shot blasted. Heyes saw his partner's head hit the wall, then Kid's body slide slowly down to sprawl on the floor.

"No!" cried Heyes.

Pandemonium broke out in the diner. Several women screamed. Children started crying. Chairs scraped across the floor as people rose from their seats. Heyes dropped his purchases and ran forward, pushing through the frightened people. Heedless, Heyes elbowed between the deputy and the belligerent portly man. The dark haired Kansan slid to his knees in the wet puddle beside his cousin.

"Kid," whispered Heyes as he leaned in closer.

One hand reached out to gently touch the side of Kid's face. The blue eyes were closed. Dark brown eyes blinked back a sudden moisture.

"Where are you hit?" murmured Heyes in a low voice full of concern.

At point blank range, there should be a huge hole evident, but Heyes didn't see any wound. The only blood showing was a tiny spot of red at the corner of Kid's mouth. Behind him, Heyes heard the deputy shouting over the din of voices.

"Everybody stay right where you are!" demanded the deputy. "Who shot him?"

Who shot Kid indeed? Heyes looked up in surprise. He thought the deputy shot his partner. Sharp brown eyes spotted a bullet embedded in the paneled wall mere inches from where Kid had hit his head. As quick as thought moved to action, Heyes spun and drew his pistol. The portly man raised his hands as the room fell silent.

"Take the derringer… out... of your pocket… very… slowly," demanded Heyes in a low menacing growl.

"I don't have…" protested the rotund man in the black suit.

"You do," hissed Heyes. Dark brown eyes glared as he pointed the revolver towards the man. "And I know you do. Do I have to..."

"No, no, no..." The man tentatively lowered one hand and reached fingers inside a pocket. A small weapon, single barrel, walnut handle with silver inlay, appeared. "Here it is."

"Drop it!"

A small metallic thump sounded. No one else in the crowded diner made a sound.

"Now tell me, why did you shoot my partner?"

"He's an outlaw! Wanted dead or alive," exclaimed the portly man. His flushed face turned an even darker shade of plum red, as he continued, "A bank robber! A train robber! A no good gunslinger…."

"He's my partner!" bellowed Heyes in a rage. "And he's…"

There is no telling what else Heyes might have said, but a sound from Kid stopped his tirade.

"Oww," groaned Kid.

Still on his knees, Heyes looked up at the deputy. The young man pointed his pistol aimlessly at the floor and looked to be in shock. Behind him, Eula Mae, the waitress, tugged at the deputy's sleeve.

"Will you keep that man from shooting at anyone else while I tend to my partner?" snapped Heyes.

The deputy nodded. With a little guidance from Eula Mae, the deputy's pistol turned to point at the belligerent man in the black suit. Hands returned to a raised position.

"Claude," added the waitress, "you need to arrest that man!"

The man in the black suit started to argue.

"My name is Lloyd Eugene Carstairs," informed the man. "I'm just doing my civic duty! You should be grateful…"

Heyes tuned out the babble behind him as he leaned down over Kid. The blond reached back to wrap his hand around the base of his skull. Kid winced with pain.

"What hurts?" asked Heyes.

"My head," moaned Kid. He licked his lips, "I think I bit my tongue too and it feels like I'm sitting in a puddle of water."

Heyes checked the back of Kid's curly head, then he rocked back on his heels with a sigh of relief. It could have been so much worse. Heyes had thought for a moment…

"You've got the biggest goose egg I've ever seen," chuckled the dark haired former outlaw, "and we're both sitting in a puddle."

Kid struggled to sit up straight, but the slippery floor was making it difficult for the dazed man.

"What did you come in here for?" hissed Curry in a low whisper. "They're gonna arrest both of us now!"

Heyes stared at his cousin. The practical thing would have been for Heyes to stay outside so he could break Kid out of jail if an arrest was made, but hearing that shot, seeing Kid fall... practical didn't count for much, and Heyes knew Kid would have been with him if their positions were reversed.

"Maybe not, but if we're going down," replied Heyes in a low voice, "we're going together."

Heyes turned his head to focus on the conversation around him. No one was paying any attention to the two men on the floor, but the partner's situation remained desperate. They could both still be arrested, but excited talk of the people in the crowded diner seemed to be more intent on arresting the man who actually fired a shot. Heyes couldn't place the portly man who was still bellowing loudly that Kid should be arrested. Strangely enough, Carstairs never mentioned Heyes.

"Have you ever seen our friend Lloyd before?" asked Heyes in a quiet whisper.

"Friend? Which one?" asked Kid. He blinked his blue eyes trying to focus. "I don't think I've seen either of them before."

Either of them? Heyes held up two fingers in front of Kid's face.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" asked Heyes softly.

"Would you quit moving them?" asked Kid. He tried to reach for Heyes hand, and grasped at the air to the left. "How do you expect me to count them if you keep moving 'em?"

The front door swung open, bells jingled again. A tall, fifty-ish looking man, face lined with experience, chest adorned with a large bright star, entered the room. His once sandy hair was now peppered with gray. The sheriff looked around the crowded diner. Parents were calming children. Diner patrons were moving around, some seemed eager to leave.

"I heard gunfire," announced the sheriff. He looked at the fair haired waitress. "Eula Mae, what's going on here?"

"Sheriff," interjected the man in the black suit as he lowered one hand to point at Kid, "Arrest that man! He's Kid Curry!"

"Papa, arrest that man!" admonished Eula Mae as she pointed at Lloyd Eugene Carstairs. "He shot at a customer!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x


	3. Old Trouble

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same story verse as Kid Plans and South By Southeast, but should also stand alone.

Old Trouble

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Claude the deputy never had to arrest anyone. The sheriff listened to Eula Mae's description of the events, shushing Carstairs when he tried to interrupt. The stern older man demanded names as he confiscated weapons, first the derringer, and then both Heyes and Kid's revolvers.

"Joshua Smith," replied Heyes tilting his head back and smiling broadly from his crouching position on the floor. He gestured with a slender hand towards Kid sprawled beside him. "And despite what Mr. Carstairs says, he is mistaken. This is my partner Thaddeus Jones."

"Smith and Jones," grunted the gray haired man in disbelief, "really?"

"There are lots of people named Smith and Jones," protested Heyes.

Carstairs was handcuffed in spite of his objections.

"That outlaw is the one you need to be arresting!" insisted the irate bank examiner as he pointed at Kid.

"Public safety first," responded the sheriff. "Shootists get arrested before maybe outlaws."

"Shootist? I'm no gunslinger, I'm a bank examiner, a very important man," blustered Carstairs. "You have no business arresting me."

"People that shoot firearms in public places are outlaws in this town," growled Eula Mae's father. "And they get arrested, even if…" the sheriff paused and glowered, "_especially_ if they work for the bank. You ought to know better!"

"Thaddeus and I didn't shoot…," Heyes, but his words were drowned out by the fair haired waitress.

"Sit down everybody. Nobody leaves, you are all witnesses," announced Eula Mae. At the disgruntled muttering of those closest to the door, she added, "Apple pie for everyone."

Eula Mae's apple pie went a long way towards calming the frightened restaurant patrons. Everyone except Mr. Monroe returned to their seats. Jotting notes on his pad of paper, the newspaper man moved closer to the serving counter to hear.

"Sheriff Coltrane," asked Monroe, "may I get a statement?"

"A statement?"

"For the paper," explained Monroe. "I'm reporting this incident..."

"Not now," snapped the Sheriff. He pointed at Curry, "Claude, put your gun away and help that man up."

Slipping and sliding in the puddle, both the deputy and Heyes helped Kid to stand. Kid swayed.

"Ooh," moaned Kid. The tall man placed a big boned hand against the side of his curly blond head. "Make the room stop spinning."

"A chair," called Heyes. "We need a chair."

Monroe pushed a straight backed wooden chair forward. Kid sat. Resting his forearms on his knees, the muscular young man hung his head down and inhaled a deep breath.

"Claude," ordered Eula Mae's father, "keep your gun pointed straight at these two while I take Mr. Carstairs to the jail."

Heyes swallowed. For a moment there, he had hoped that Coltrane was only going to arrest the bank examiner, but obviously that was not to be. Heyes tried bluffing.

"What?" demanded Heyes in his best tone of innocent indignation. "Are you arresting us too?"

Sheriff Coltrane stepped right up to Heyes. The gray haired man leaned close and tapped Heyes on his chest with one finger.

"Yes! Right after I take this trigger happy fool to jail, I'm coming back to arrest you," informed the sheriff. "You pulled a gun in a public restaurant. Your friend, I'm taking into custody until we sort out his identity. I'm sure you can understand I don't want to be the sheriff that let Kid Curry get away."

"My partner's name is Thaddeus Jones!"

"That remains to be seen," replied Coltrane.

Heyes glanced at his partner. Kid sat quietly, concentrating on breathing in and out. Heyes tried for sympathy.

"My partner needs a doctor's office," objected Heyes, "not a jail cell."

For the first time since entering the restaurant, Heyes saw the sheriff's face soften. The hard, experienced lawman glanced at Kid with an expression of concern. The younger Kansan sat quietly. His curly blond head was now tilted to one side, resting on his left hand. Kid's blue eyes were barely discernible, just tiny slits opened to watch the patrons of the diner moving about.

"A jail cell is all I've got right now," answered the Sheriff with a quiet sigh. "Doc's out on calls. When he gets back we'll have him look at your partner."

Heyes swallowed again. The silver tongued wonder tried once more.

"We're not outlaws," protested Heyes. "This is a mistake!"

Sheriff Contrane's eyes narrowed as he stared back at Heyes. The hard gaze of a lawman that had seen too much was back in place on the man's face.

"I don't recall hearing anybody say you were an outlaw son," replied the sheriff softly, "but rest assured, we will get to the truth of this matter.

The sheriff leaned in closer and lowered his voice.

"Oh, and by the way, it's Claude's first week as deputy," whispered Sheriff Coltrane. "I don't think he's ever held a gun before. Don't you boys do anything to startle him."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

When the sheriff returned, Claude and Heyes supported Kid on either side and managed to get the staggering blond across the street. Both Kid and Heyes were given a brief pat down. Knives were also confiscated. Heyes tried for a distraction.

"What about dry clothing," asked Heyes. "Our gear is by the door in the diner."

"You'll dry soon enough in this heat," replied the sheriff.

Neither the sheriff nor the deputy checked the partner's boots any further after pulling out knives. Coltrane watched over Claude as the deputy escorted the two men to the rearmost cell of the jail.

"I hope you two don't mind sharing," said Coltrane. "I didn't want to put either of you in with Mr. Carstairs."

"On no," replied Heyes amiably. The former outlaw was still smiling happily from the cursory pat down, "We don't mind sharing. No, not at all."

Kid settled back on the cot. The younger Kansan placed his arm over his eyes with a sigh. Claude pushed the cell door shut and twisted the key as Carstairs began a taunting harangue from the opposite cell.

"My supervisor, Henry P. McIntyre of the Wells Fargo Bank auditing division, will be arriving in two days" informed Carstairs. "Then you'll have to let me go!"

The sheriff rolled his eyes at the man's words. Heyes turned to look at his partner and found Curry had moved his arm to prop himself up in the cot. The two men exchanged a look. They recognized the name of Carstairs' supervisor. The auditor who walked in on the Hanford job could identify both of them.

"It don't make no difference who your boss is," replied the sheriff, "you're still going to be in jail."

"McIntyre can identify Curry too," gloated Carstairs. "You'll see, I'm right."

"Quit complaining! You're lucky you didn't kill anyone," ordered the sheriff. "If the judge only sentences you to disorderly conduct, it's thirty days."

"But, but," Carstairs spluttered indignantly.

The sheriff gave one last glowering look before stomping outside. The deputy hurried after him. Heyes sat down on the edge of Kid's cot.

"Do you have any idea who this Carstairs fellow is?" asked Heyes quietly.

"Maybe," replied Kid in a low whisper. "Do you remember that first train job? The passenger that tried to pull a gun and shot himself in the foot?"

Oh, the aborted first train job. Heyes remembered. He had been at the front of the train when the shot went off. Kid ordered the Devil's Hole Gang to ride. It wasn't until much later that Heyes heard the story of what happened in the passenger compartment.

"That's the man that tried to shoot Kyle?" asked Heyes.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

About an hour later, Sheriff Coltrane returned. He took his jangling key ring out of his pocket and inserted one heavy iron key in the lock. Opening the cell door, the older man beckoned to Heyes to follow. Heyes gave a glance at his partner. Kid was stretched out on the cot. In the other cell, Carstairs was rolled over on his side with his back to them. From the snuffling sounds emanating from the other cell, Heyes was sure the bank examiner was sleeping.

"Just you," ordered Coltrane.

A nod from Kid, and Heyes followed the sheriff to the front of the jail. At the sheriff's desk, Heyes was surprised to receive his pistol and knife back.

"Eula Mae's got the rest of your gear, including your partner's hat, at the diner," said the sheriff.

Heyes brushed a hand through his hair pushing the dark brown locks back from his eyes. The wanted poster of Kid Curry sat atop the sheriff's desk. Beneath Kid's poster was a second one. From the little that was visible, Heyes was sure it was his own poster.

"Every witness I interviewed said you only pulled the gun to protect your partner," continued the Sheriff. "Since you didn't fire the weapon, I'm releasing you with a warning."

"What about my partner?" asked Heyes.

"I can't take your word for his identity," grumbled Coltrane, "you know that."

"Thaddeus wouldn't shoot anybody," insisted Heyes. The thirty year old man spoke quickly in an effort to be convincing. "This is a classic case of mistaken identity. My partner..."

"Do you want me to lock you up again?" interrupted the sheriff. "I could keep both of you until we clear your friend's name."

The slender dark haired man inhaled sharply. Heyes stared back at the sheriff. In some ways, the older man reminded him of Lom. The sheriff was only trying to keep his town safe.

"From what I've heard, your friend was real patient and polite about this man's accusations," continued the sheriff with a nod. The creases around Coltrane's mouth tightened into a little frown. "But we still haven't confirmed your partner's identity."

Heyes opened his mouth to speak, but the sheriff held up his hand.

"The only people that seem to know either of you," continued Coltrane with a snort, "are the Monroe family and the Havershams. The folks that came in on the stage with you this morning."

"We just arrived today, planned to buy horses and move on," Heyes explained. "We'll leave. We won't make any trouble."

Gray eyebrows lowered, giving the sheriff a stern expression. Heyes didn't need to hear the words to know that the sheriff thought he and Kid had already caused more than enough trouble just by being in Clarendon.

"We won't make any more trouble," said Heyes.

It was a moment before the lawman spoke.

"I find Carstairs story questionable since he hasn't identified anyone as Kid Curry's partner," said Coltrane slowly. "If Carstairs said anything about you being Hannibal Heyes, I wouldn't be releasing you."

"Me? Surely you're not thinking I'm an outlaw too," said Heyes as he pretended to be shocked at the mere suggestion.

"You two do fit the descriptions of Curry and Heyes," commented Sheriff Coltrane.

"Oh those descriptions could fit almost anybody..." started Heyes.

The sheriff's expression hardened. The dark haired former outlaw realized his mistake.

"Do you two get mistaken for outlaws often?" asked Coltrane narrowing his eyes with suspicion.

"Just once before," responded Heyes hurriedly. "You would be surprised at how many people don't believe us when we say our names are Smith and Jones."

A grunt of disbelief sounded from the sheriff.

"I can't just let your partner go until I know he's not dangerous," harrumphed the sheriff. "Nobody's accusing you of anything, yet. And I figure you ain't going anywhere while your partner can't travel."

"Of course not," agreed Heyes. The former outlaw pressed the issue once more, "But you should release Thaddeus. He needs medical attention."

"Doc will be here soon," said Coltrane.

"Carstairs made a mistake," insisted Heyes once more.

For a moment, Heyes thought the sheriff might march him back to the jail cell, then the older man gave a long suffering sigh and sat down behind his desk.

"Can you prove it?" asked the sheriff. "Do you have anyone to vouch for you?"

Ah, thought Heyes. Anyone to vouch for them, there's the rub. At that moment, Heyes was getting desperate. He and Kid had to be out of Clarendon before McIntyre arrived.

"We just finished some work for Sheriff Lom Trevors out of Porterville, Wyoming," answered Heyes without a pause. "He can vouch for us."

"Are you deputies?" asked the sheriff in a surprised tone.

"No," replied Heyes. The slender man hooked his thumbs in his belt and rocked back on his heels as he confidently explained. "We operate a business that provides secure deliveries. We just finished delivering a very important package from the territorial governor of Wyoming to the mayor of Brownsville."

"That's a pretty long trip just to deliver a package," replied the sheriff with a raised eyebrow.

"Pretty important package," assured Heyes with a dimpled smile. The governor's daughter had assured both partners of the importance of the china doll for her daughter, and who knows, the papers to his son-in-law might have been important to the politicians too. "We provide secure, guaranteed deliveries throughout the entire west."

"Well, I will telegraph both Porterville and Brownsville," responded the sheriff as he headed towards the door.

"Just Porterville," insisted Heyes quickly. "Sheriff Trevors was our employer for this job. No need to disturb the Mayor of Brownsville."

"Okay, Porterville it is," agreed the Sheriff. "You can wait here if you like. Let's see if we can get your partner identified."

Or not, hoped Heyes.

"I have to buy some horses," responded Heyes. "We've got an important delivery to Tucson and a deadline to meet. We'd like to get going as soon as possible."

"Tucson?" repeated the sheriff thoughtfully. "You gents sure do get around."

"We even go to Mexico," responded Heyes.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"I'm not getting any answers. Nobody is identifying your partner," said the sheriff of Clarendon two hours later. He looked at the telegram responses he held before him and shook his head. "Telegram from Porterville said Trevors was transporting a prisoner to Cheyenne. I even wired Brownsville, the mayor is on vacation."

"Well Sheriff," pleaded Heyes, "I'm identifying my partner. The horses I purchased are outside, and we really do need to get going."

"What's your hurry?"

"The delivery to Tucson," responded Heyes quickly. "And Thaddeus is engaged to be married, a lovely girl… Emily is the daughter of the mayor back home and…"

"Your partner is in no shape to ride today. Doc was here earlier and said Mr. Jones needed at least twenty-four hours rest," reminded the Sheriff. The older man raised his hand to stop Heyes rapid speech. "Besides, remember, I can't just take your word for his identity. Don't worry, I sent a rider to the Wilkens ranch to get Leroy."

"Who?"

"Leroy, Leroy Johnson. He will arrive tomorrow morning at the latest," answered the sheriff. "We'll have everything straightened out then."

"Who is Leroy Johnson?" asked Heyes. The Kansan wondered, with an unsettled feeling in his stomach, what kind of information could this new man possibly provide?

"About ten, maybe eleven years ago, his brother was killed in a gunfight with Kid Curry near Waco," answered Coltrane. "Curry was never charged, sheriff said the Leroy's brother called him out, but Leroy witnessed the shooting. He can identify Kid Curry."

Heyes clamped his jaw shut, fixing the smile firmly on his face. He finally recognized the name Johnson, the name of the second man Kid Curry was reputed to have killed in Texas. The gambler had deliberately picked a stage route to avoid any of the towns that Kid had lived in when the young fast draw was in Texas. Kid had always claimed to be innocent of killing both Gallant and Johnson, but Heyes remembered a man in a Waco bar who thought otherwise. What were the odds of this man being in Clarendon now? What were the odds of this man and Carstairs both being here?

"Ten, eleven years ago," asked Heyes questioningly. "I'm not sure if a man's memory would really be accurate... sort of like Carstairs making his mistake."

"Maybe, maybe not," replied the sheriff. The older man frowned, squinting his eyes. "You got anybody else that can identify the two of you? Anybody in Texas?"

Heyes noted the switch in terminology. The sheriff was no longer asking for someone to prove Thaddeus Jones' identity, but for identification of both Smith and Jones. Despite no mention of the outlaw Hannibal Heyes, the sheriff was suspicious of both partners.

"We did a delivery for a Mr. Patrick J. McCreedy in Red Rock," answered Heyes.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Thaddeus, how are you feeling?" asked Heyes in a low voice.

The former outlaw stood outside the narrow barred window to his cousin's cell. The back alley behind the jail wasn't used much and Heyes figured the risk of being seen there was necessary. He had to let Kid know the plan. Kid wobbled a bit, but he stood up and leaned towards the barred window.

"Better, but jail doesn't agree with me," replied Kid in a quiet whisper.

"The sheriff sent for someone he knows that can identify Kid Curry on sight," informed Heyes, "but he's not expected to arrive until tomorrow morning."

"Then I guess we best be going before then," responded Kid's soft voice. "I can ride."

Heyes wasn't sure about that at all. Kid still seemed to be having trouble with his balance, but they needed to move. Heyes started to respond, but from inside the jail, a voice called Kid. The blond turned his head towards the front of the jail for a moment.

"Just trying to clear my head. Fresh air helps," responded Kid. The younger man then turned back to lean his head against the bars. In a low whisper, Kid urged, "Get me out of here Heyes, I can ride."

Heyes plastered a smile on his face and pretended to believe.

"Good," replied Heyes. "I'll be back after midnight, when things quiet down."

Heyes started to move away, but his cousin beckoned him back.

"Heyes," asked Kid "why did you tell the sheriff I'm engaged?"

"I wanted to let him know what a fine, upstanding citizen you are," replied Heyes with a grin. "Getting married and planning to make lots of little taxpayers."

"The mayor's daughter," asked Kid questioningly, "really?"

"Emily totally adores you Kid," replied Heyes.

"Emily," reminded Kid, referring to the child in Brownsville, "is eight."

"It will be a long engagement," replied Heyes with a dimpled grin.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

As evening approached, the new deputy found Heyes sitting in a dark corner of the saloon, nursing a shot of whisky. Claude held his hands down by his side, but he kept clenching and unclenching his fingers as if he was readying himself to draw his revolver.

"Sheriff says to tell you we have vagrancy laws in Clarendon," said Claude.

"Really?" asked Heyes. "And why does the sheriff think I need to know that?"

"Sheriff Coltrane said to tell you, if you ain't stabled those horses you bought and checked in to the hotel before sundown I'm to arrest you for vagrancy," continued Claude in a rush of words.

"What? Why?" asked Heyes in a surprised tone. This sounded a lot like Porterville's transient law. He looked around at the crowded saloon. "Are you arresting everyone in the saloon for vagrancy?"

"No, most of these folks live in town," answered Claude. "But we do have a vagrancy policy. Sheriff said to let you know."

Claude's pale face and nervous manner made Heyes realize, the young deputy was terrified, terrified that Heyes might really be a dangerous outlaw, but the young man was still determined to do his job.

"We can arrest vagrants," repeated Claude, "especially if we think those vagrants might be Kid Curry's partner."

"My partner is Thaddeus Jones," sighed Heyes. The frugal former outlaw had hoped to save the cost of a hotel room as he planned to break Kid out of jail in a few hours. "But if it makes you and the sheriff feel better, I'll check into the hotel right after dinner."

"I'm supposed to make sure you're checked in," said Claude determinedly, "and the horses need to be stabled."

"Come along," sighed Heyes.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Two and a half dollars for a room with only one bed, and no bath!" exclaimed Heyes as he stepped out of the hotel. The slender dark haired man turned to the young deputy beside him. "You should be arresting the hotel clerk!"

Claude pointed towards the livery stable in an effort to urge the former outlaw in that direction. Then the deputy gave a surprised exclamation as two travel worn men strode out of the livery.

"He's here early!"

"Who?" asked Heyes.

"They musta rode straight back," said Claude. "The tall man, that's Leroy Johnson."

Heyes and Claude watched as the two men separated. The shorter man headed into the diner. The other man continued towards the jail.

"Come on," urged Claude. "Let's hear what Leroy has to say."

Heyes followed behind as the young deputy hurried down the dusty street towards the jail. The former outlaw would have rather broken Kid out of jail in the middle of the night. It would be safer with the town folk asleep, but if this Johnson man was going to identify Kid Curry, Heyes' plan would need to be put into action now. Heyes stepped up to the open door of the jail and peered inside. Heyes was glad to see the tall man standing beside the sheriff's desk was unarmed. The deputy leaned against the wall pinned with wanted posters. Sheriff Coltrane stood in the corridor unlocking a cell door.

"Wake up now," urged the Sheriff.

"Huh," muttered Kid. "What?

"Get up," ordered Coltrane. "I've got someone that wants to see you."

Kid sat up and swung his legs to the side of the cot. Heyes was glad to see his partner's movements were surer now than they had been earlier. The muscular blond stood up tall and straight. Kid blinked his eyes sleepily.

"This way," urged the gray haired lawman.

Kid strode forward, walking steadily. Claude lit a lantern as Kid and Sheriff Coltrane came into the front of the jail. The bright light made Kid blink and stop walking.

"Coltrane, I thought you called me into town to identify Kid Curry," said the tall man. "Where is he?"

The portly man in the other cell rose up and limped to the bars. Carstairs pointed at Heyes' partner.

"That's Kid Curry!" insisted the bank examiner.

Sheriff Coltrane looked from Carstairs to the tall blond standing in front of him. Then the sheriff faced the tall man.

"Leroy," said Coltrane, "you're the only man in these parts that I know might be able to identify Kid Curry on sight."

"Yeah," agreed Johnson. "Ain't never gonna forget the man who killed my brother."

"Is Kid Curry in this room?"

"Phhtt!" the exclamation of disgust was accompanied by a shaking of Johnson's head. "No!"

The real Kid Curry looked startled, but didn't argue with Johnson. Heyes sagged against the door jamb in relief.

"Kid Curry was blond like this young fellow," continued the tall man, "but his hair was more of a sandy color, and Curry was taller, straighter hair..."

Johnson might have gone on enumerating the differences between Thaddeus Jones and the man who killed his brother, but Carstairs raised his voice and began shouting objections.

"Tell it to the judge," growled Coltrane. "I don't want to hear another word."

The sheriff moved towards his desk and pulled open the topmost drawer. Taking Kid's revolver and knife out, Coltrane held it towards the blond.

"Mr. Jones, you have my apologies, you're free to go now," said the Sheriff.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

With no need for a jailbreak, Heyes insisted on staying the night in Clarendon. After all, he had already paid for a hotel room. The older Kansan wasn't going to let on that he was worried for the younger man. The doctor had said his cousin needed rest after that bump on the head. Heyes was going to try to see Kid got at least one good night's sleep. Three to a bed in the stage's way station the night before hadn't been very restful for anyone.

"No use wasting good money Kid," said Heyes.

"Who do you suppose really killed Johnson's brother?" mused Kid. "Artie hired so many drovers, I can't remember them all."

"You think it was one of Artie Gorman's men?" asked Heyes in surprise.

"Maybe," answered Kid. "I just don't know."

After breakfast the next morning, the partners headed to the livery stable. Heyes had his horse saddled and walked out of the stable in time to see Sheriff Coltrane approach. The lawman was frowning and carrying a piece of paper.

"Good morning Sheriff," greeted Heyes with a tight smile. "My partner and I were just leaving."

"Hmmph. You could have saved us both a lot of trouble yesterday," responded Coltrane as he waved a telegram at Heyes, "if you had mentioned your partner was Mr. McCreedy's nephew."

Heyes managed to keep his features under control. No evidence of his surprise showed although the dimpled smile on his face broadened. McCreedy's response to the gray haired sheriff's telegram had been rather lengthy judging by the amount of text showing on the paper.

"Thaddeus would never ask a lawman for favoritism just because his uncle…," began Heyes.

"Family is important," interrupted Coltrane. "You might want to remember that."

Heyes nodded. The dark haired Kansan didn't need to be told that bit of advice. Kid came out of the stable leading his horse. The lawman withdrew a brown envelope from his inside vest pocket.

"You said you were going to Tucson next," added the sheriff. "How much extra would it be to take this to my brother in Wittman?"

"Where's Wittman?" asked Heyes.

"North, northwest of Phoenix," replied Coltrane. "On the road to Wickenburg."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"We told Clem we would stop by for a visit on our return," reminded Kid as the partners rode out of Clarendon.

"Arizona isn't really out of the way Kid," said Heyes as the two men rode out of town. "We'll see Clem soon enough."

"This detour is going to add at least another month to our trip," grumbled Kid.

"We're getting paid good money to deliver the Sheriff's papers to his brother," continued Heyes. "I'm just glad to be getting out of Texas."

"Texas ain't the problem Heyes," objected Kid.

"Kid, you're right," agreed the dark haired former outlaw. "The problem is all the trouble you keep getting into."

"Me," squawked Kid indignantly. The blond gave his horse a gentle nudge forward with his boots. "What about all the trouble you keep getting into?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x


	4. In and Out of Trouble

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same story verse as Kid Plans and South By Southeast, but should also stand alone.

In and Out of Trouble

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"You're not Clem," blurted out Heyes in surprise.

The dark haired former outlaw and his partner had ridden cautiously into the front yard of the home on the outskirts of Denver. Signs of change since their last visit nearly four months ago were evident. The two chairs on the front porch were gone. A clothes line ran beneath the cottonwood trees. Heyes couldn't imagine Clem ever wearing the garish pink flounced dress hanging from the line, but more worrisome were a pair of large man's pants flapping in the breeze. Was Clem's father living here now? Or had Clem gotten married while he and Kid were away?

"No, I'm not Clem, name is Ferguson," agreed the chubby man with a broad smile. The jovial man pushed his spectacles further up on his nose and peered through them. "You must be Miss Hale's cousins. Right?"

Heyes opened his mouth to respond, but the man continued speaking.

"No, no, don't tell me," insisted the man with a chuckle. "Let me guess."

The man pointed one pudgy finger first at the slender dark haired man standing before him, then at the tall blond watching carefully from his mounted position on the big black gelding. Kid leaned forward with his left arm resting on the pommel of his saddle. The reins to Heyes horse dangled loosely from his fingertips. The younger man's right hand hovered near his revolver.

"You must be Thaddeus Jones," continued the stranger, "and he must be Joshua Smith."

"Actually, I'm Joshua Smith," responded Heyes. Jerking his thumb over his shoulder, Heyes added, "My partner is Thaddeus Jones. We're looking for Miss Clementine Hale. She has lived here for nearly ten years."

The man looked momentarily crestfallen to have mistaken the partner's identities, but he perked up with Heyes next question.

"Do you know where we might find her?" asked Heyes.

"I purchased the home from Miss Hale about two months ago," replied Ferguson. "She was very concerned that you get her new address."

The chubby man tapped one finger against his double chins thoughtfully.

"Now where did I put that paper?" he muttered quietly. His face lit up and he snapped his fingers suddenly. "I remember!"

"Clem moved?" asked Heyes in surprise but he was talking to an empty doorway.

Inside the house, Heyes could see the pink tufted sofa and small round tables were gone as well as the big kitchen table where the friends had shared so many meals. The big cast iron stove remained along with the red handled pump by the sink. Ferguson was poking into the slotted crevasses of a built in spice rack. The chubby man withdrew a folded paper.

"Aha, here it is," exclaimed the man happily. He returned to the front door and thrust the paper towards Heyes. "She wanted you to have her new address."

Heyes sniffed. The vanilla scented paper in his hand was covered with elegantly formed letters scrawling across the paper.

"Fourteenth Street, number two hundred forty seven, upstairs," read Heyes. "She's in downtown Denver?"

"Miss Hale moved into town with her father," replied the chubby man with a firm nod up and down.

"Joshua," called the blond man, "it's not far, we should be going."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Slightly over an hour later, Heyes was knocking at another door. An upstairs window raised. A familiar dark haired head leaned out overhead.

"Boys!" squealed a familiar voice in happy recognition.

Heyes craned his neck backwards looking up. Strands of Clem's dark brown hair tumbled free from her bun and dangled over her shoulder as she leaned most of her upper torso out the window.

"Clem, don't fall!" admonished Heyes.

"Phhht," sputtered Clem with a bright smile. "Don't worry! I'm not going to fall."

The tiny woman brushed back her hair with one hand, then rested her forearms on the window sill. The broad smile changed to a small pout.

"You're late," said Clem. "You missed both Fourth of July and the Statehood celebration."

Heyes spread his hands out expansively to either side of his body, elbows tucked tight at the waist. His black hat hung between his shoulder blades by the stampede strings tied at his throat.

"Clem, we got here as soon as we could," explained Heyes. "Our business in Texas took longer than expected."

"Not to mention our business in New Mexico and Arizona," added Kid.

Behind Heyes, the younger man still sat astride his black gelding. Kid held the reins of Heyes' horse in his left hand and pushed his brown hat up higher to look up at Clem.

"I heard about your business in Texas," replied Clem with a sour tone. The pouting lips tightened into a full-fledged frown. "Getting arrested in Clarendon! Hmmph!"

In the street below, the dark haired Kansan exchanged a surprised look with his partner. Kid shrugged. Heyes looked back up at Clem.

"Clem, I don't know what rumors you may have heard, but…" began the silver tongued wonder.

"It was in the Denver Post," interrupted Clem.

"What?"

"Wait," commanded the petite brunette.

Clem withdrew from the window. A couple of minutes later, she reappeared holding a rolled up newspaper.

"Catch," said Clem. "Page three. A human interest story by some newsman from Clarendon named Monroe."

Heyes reached his hands up to retrieve the falling papers. At Clem's words, Heyes had sudden flash of memory. Mr. Monroe asked Sheriff Coltrane for a statement that day at the diner. A dimpled smile spread across Heyes' face.

"Now Clem, newspapers don't always get the facts right," chuckled Heyes.

From the expression on Clem's face, Heyes could tell she remembered their conversation from the partner's last visit. A newspaper article had led her to believe Curry and Heyes were wounded, possibly dead. Heyes pressed his advantage.

"You can see we're both alive and well, right here in front of you," coaxed Heyes. "I don't know what Mr. Monroe could possibly have written to be so upsetting. Why don't you invite us inside so we can talk about it?"

Clem's shoulders slumped. The tiny woman pushed her hair back behind her ears.

"I can't," said Clem flatly.

"What?" asked Kid. The blond glanced tellingly towards the passersby. "Clem, are you really going to keep us standing outside in the middle of the street?"

"Father's ill," explained Clem. "The doctor thinks he's got typhoid fever. And the city council passed an ordinance…" Clem huffed in exasperation, tendrils of dark hair fluttered around her forehead. "There's a quarantine on the house."

Clem pointed to a sheet of paper nailed beside the front door. For the first time Heyes looked at it closely enough to read the tiny lettering. The notice was signed by City Physician, John W. Graham, MD.

"I can't let you in," sighed Clem.

"Four weeks quarantine. We can't go in," agreed Heyes with an answering sigh. "Or we would have to stay until the doctor can safely determine we're not contagious too. City council has given him the right to detain people if needed to protect the health of the city."

Kid shook his blond curly head in disagreement.

"What about Clem's health, and Mr. Hale's?" asked Kid. Blue eyes looked up at the brunette peering out the second floor window. "Clem, what can we do to help you?"

"Just go," said Clem softly. "Father and I will be fine. I don't want you boys getting in trouble by staying here to help me."

Still clutching the rolled up newspaper, Heyes returned to his horse. A booted foot placed in a stirrup had Heyes back in the saddle in an instant. Dark brown eyes gazed at Clem.

"If you need something," began Heyes.

"I know," replied Clem with a smile.

"Yeah," said Heyes. He tried to ignore the hollow feeling in his chest. The former outlaw forced an answering smile. Then, the dark haired man added Kid's usual goodbye. "Take care of yourself while we're gone."

Leaving didn't feel right. Heyes could tell from his partner's clenched jaw and sulky frown that Kid felt the same way. Neither partner wanted to leave Clem, but the petite woman made a shooing motion with her hands.

"Go on, get," said Clem with a smile. "Hurry back for Thanksgiving."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

North of Denver, the partners stopped to set up camp. Heyes soon had a crackling fire going. The former outlaw leader looked toward the river. Kid stood on the river bank, the coffee pot was beside his foot. Heyes stood up and stretched his arms out high overhead. Then Heyes began to walk down the slope towards his partner. The stone the younger man skimmed across the water sank after only two skips.

"Not one of your better throws Kid," commented Heyes when he reached his partner's side.

Wordlessly, Kid set another small flat rock in motion. Four skips before sinking. A third stone made its way across the narrow riverbed to land among stalks of dried brown bulrushes.

"I know you're still upset about leaving Clem, but what else is bothering you?" asked Heyes.

For a moment, Heyes thought his cousin wasn't going to answer. Then Kid turned to face Heyes. Clear blue eyes stared back at him.

"We still haven't told Clem about the amnesty," answered Kid.

"Is that all?" chuckled Heyes.

"All?" demanded Kid. "We agreed we would tell Clem."

"You didn't want me to shout it from the street now did you?" asked Heyes. "Or have you forgotten, the amnesty deal is supposed to be a secret."

"It don't seem right, keeping secrets from Clem," grumbled Kid. "Going straight ought to be about living a better life, and telling the truth ought to be part of that. It's not just about not robbing banks and trains anymore."

"Yeah Kid," agreed Heyes. The dark haired Kansan clapped his cousin on the shoulder. "We can ask Lom when we see him. Maybe Governor Hoyt will have something to say about that. Right now, why don't we get some coffee and biscuits cooking?"

By the firelight later that evening, Heyes began to read the newspaper article. Lips curled up in a broad smile. Dimples deepened as he read further. Monroe's article about travelling by stage with his wife and children, meeting authentic Westerners, was reminiscent of a popular travel book published a few years previously. By the time Heyes got to the part about the dance with a mop bucket, he laughed out loud. Kid pushed the floppy brown hat back revealing his blue eyes.

"It you want me to be awake for second watch," grumbled Kid, "it would be nice if I got to sleep some now."

"Sorry Kid," chuckled Heyes. He held the paper up so his cousin could see it. "Monroe wrote a pretty funny article."

"Funny?" asked Kid.

"Funny," insisted Heyes. "Not as good as that Twain fellow's book, Innocents Abroad, but the story had its moments."

"What kind of moments?"

"Thaddeus Jones is getting a reputation too," chuckled Heyes.

"What do you mean?" asked Kid. "What kind of reputation?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x

In a small town in western Pennsylvania, a tall man with dark blond hair limped into a store and headed towards the hardware lining the back wall. The shopkeeper greeted him with a smile.

"Henry," said the merchant, as he gestured towards the pile of newspapers on the counter, "There's an article that mentions Kid Curry in the Gettysburg Gazette."

The former Union cavalry messenger detoured towards the counter. Henry picked up the paper, scanning the headlines eagerly.

"I really don't understand your fascination with that outlaw, even if you do have the same last name. Of course the article might not be what you're looking for," chuckled the shopkeeper. "It's really more about Thaddeus Jones."

"Who?" asked Henry Curry.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Nearly six weeks later, Heyes stopped in at the Porterville telegraph office. The dark haired man handed the clerk a piece of paper, while his blond partner stayed outside watching the townspeople and the snow flurries. Kid pulled his sheepskin coat tight against the cold.

"To Miss Clementine Hale, Denver Colorado," read the telegraph operator. _"Delayed. See you in Spring_."

The operator looked up at the dark haired man counting out coins to pay for the message.

"Is that all?" asked the telegraph clerk. "Do you want to add anything else?"

"No, she'll understand," replied Heyes shaking his head. Then he paused, "Actually, change that to _Delayed. Back Spring_."

Heyes pulled back a nickel and pocketed it before he pushed the meagre pile of coins across the counter towards the clerk. Stepping outside, the former outlaw rejoined his partner. Heyes shivered. Slender fingers reached and turned the collar on his dark brown jacket up.

"Now let's go see what Lom wants," said Heyes.

The telegraph message they had received in Wildwood had been abrupt. _Come to Porterville. We need to talk._

-x-x-x-x-x-x

The sheriff's office was toasty warm. A coffee pot sat atop the black potbellied stove. Heyes shook his head when Lom offered him a cup. Kid leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms across his chest. Blue eyes watched the sheriff's every move.

"What did you want to see us about Lom?" asked Heyes. A tight smile spread across his face, Heyes tried to sound optimistic. "We've been good, law abiding citizens for over six months now, did the governor decide to grant us amnesty early?"

Lom shook his head as he poured himself a large cup of steaming black coffee.

"You haven't robbed any banks or trains," replied Lom, "but you boys keep getting into trouble."

The big lawman moved from the stove to stand behind his desk.

"We've been keeping out of trouble," objected the silver tongued former outlaw. Heyes leaned back against the wanted poster wall next to his partner. "We've been spending most of our time in New Mexico and Arizona."

"Where it's warm," added Kid.

"You've been in Colorado and Wyoming too," reminded Lom.

The former outlaws exchanged a glance. Lom might be a bit more informed about their activities than the two Kansans had hoped.

"Been a lot of places," responded Heyes. "Been to Texas and Mexico too."

"More than once," reminded Kid.

"Some Bannerman agent wanted to get all the Wanted posters on you boys rewritten," grumbled Lom as he sat down behind the big oak desk. "I put a stop to that."

"Lom!" exclaimed Heyes in disappointment.

The slender man had really hoped that the misinformation provided to Harry Brisco would make their lives easier. Sometimes Heyes thought that more people were shooting at Kid and himself now than when they had been outlawing.

"You really didn't have to do that Lom," countered Kid in a low voice. "It could have helped…"

"A change in your wanted posters would get people talking about you two," interrupted Lom. "You're supposed to be keeping a low profile!"

Curry and Heyes exchanged another glance. Then Kid nodded slowly in agreement with Lom's logic.

"Governor Hoyt appreciates your delivering that message to Hidalgo Kid, but getting arrested in Laredo wasn't a good idea," continued Lom.

"Wasn't exactly something I planned on," growled Kid.

"Lom, it wouldn't have happened at all if you hadn't sent us on two separate deliveries," added Heyes.

"Getting the reward money back from Grace Turner, was the only thing keeping the governor from cancelling your amnesty deal," said Lom, "but now he's a little concerned again."

"What do you mean _concerned_?" asked Heyes.

"Rumor has it you went back to Devil's Hole," replied Lom.

Heyes sucked in a deep breath. He could feel Kid's body tense up beside him.

"It's not what you think Lom," said Heyes in his best calming voice. "I just escorted a woman there."

"A woman?" asked Lom. Clearly he hadn't heard everything.

"Heyes got Big Jim to retire," said Kid. "That ought to count for something with the governor."

"Actually," chuckled Heyes, "it was Mrs. Phillips got Big Jim to retire, but the governor ought to be glad we put a stop to the robbery of the Wells Fargo offices in Denver."

Lom snorted.

"Your deal with the governor is about what you two do, not what Big Jim, or anyone else, does," replied Lom in a stern tone. "Stay out of trouble, and stay out of Devil's Hole!"

It was snowing heavier when the two former outlaws left the sheriff's office.

"We can't stay in Porterville," said Kid.

"No," agreed Heyes, "and we can't go to Devil's Hole or Wildwood."

There was a moment's silence as the two men mulled their options.

"We could make it to Thunder Ridge well before nightfall," suggested Kid. He shivered. "Even in this weather."

"Thunder Ridge?" asked Heyes.

"Clarence always did say we would be welcome anytime," replied his blond partner.

A smile spread across Heyes face as he remembered the old man. One of the original Devil's Hole gang, Clarence had been grievously injured in an accident. The entire gang had contributed money to set the amputee up in a little town north of Porterville.

"Thunder Ridge it is then," agreed Heyes.

Later that evening, the one legged old former outlaw greeted both partners with open arms.

"Of course you can stay," chuckled the old man happily. "Glad to have company, but what names are you two using now? I can't just introduce you to the rest of the town folk as Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry."

The next morning, while digging paths between the four buildings that made up the town of Thunder Ridge, Clarence introduced his guests to the other eight adults in town.

"My nephew Thaddeus and his partner Joshua Smith," chuckled Clarence. "They're gonna spend the winter with me and help me fix up the old place."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Early next Spring, Heyes sent another telegram to Clem and one to Lom, the message was the same. _We weren't in Kingsburg_.

"But we're going to Kingsburg, right Heyes," hissed Kid in a low voice.

"Yeah Kid, right after we see Soapy," answered the dark haired mastermind. "I've got a plan, but we're gonna need Soapy's help."

"I don't like people blaming us for murder," grumbled Kid.

Heyes looked at his partner in surprise.

"It didn't seem to bother you to be blamed for Gallant and Johnson's deaths in Texas all this time," commented Heyes.

An eyebrow went up above a blue eye. Heyes had the feeling he was missing something.

"They were killed, not murdered, and I knew those men weren't killed by me," explained Kid. "And your name wasn't even mentioned."

"Oh, so you're watching out for my reputation now," chuckled Heyes.

"Somebody's got to," responded Kid.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Two months later, Heyes climbed slowly onto his horse. The worry over his spinning, aching head was nothing compared to his worry over his partner.

"Kid, you seem to be getting moodier," commented Heyes as the partners rode out of the Carlson ranch. Attempting a joke, he added, "I'm beginning to think that trying for amnesty might not agree with you."

"Getting shot at don't agree with me," grumbled Kid. Blue eyes stared at Heyes in concern. "And you getting shot, actually hit, really don't agree with me."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Leaving Red Rock Montana, Kid asked Heyes a question.

"Do you know what our real Grandma Curry looked like?"

Heyes remembered the miniature portraits his mother had tucked in the front cover of the family Bible. The portraits along with the book, and the tintype taken shortly after his sister Cleopatra had been born, had all been burned long ago. Did Kid even remember those pictures?

"Grampa Curry buried two wives and three children in Ireland, before immigrating to Philadelphia with your Pa, my mother and Aunt Katie," reminded Heyes.

"I remember Grampa and Pa talking about the famine," said Kid with a nod.

"Our Grandma Curry had red hair and a great smile, Aunt Katie's Ma had a great smile too," continued Heyes. A dimpled smile spread across his face. "And if things hadn't turned out the way they had, the Widow Fleming might have been the third Grandma Curry."

Kid's blue eyes widened in surprise.

"The Widow Fleming and Grampa? Really?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x

It was slightly over a year from the time they had last spoken to Lom that Heyes found himself riding out of Matherville with his grim faced partner.

"We can be over the state line into Texas by midday tomorrow," urged Heyes.

Funny, Heyes had spent the better part of a decade worrying about keeping Kid out of Texas, but now he just wanted to get Kid away from Matherville, and the Texas state line seemed the best option. Heyes glanced sideways at his moustached partner. Kid's expression didn't betray any emotion.

"We'll tell Lom," continued Heyes. "This shouldn't affect the amnesty deal, he can explain to the governor…"

Kid Curry never killed anyone, but Thaddeus Jones did.

-x-x-x-x-x-x


	5. Trouble in Cargill

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same story verse as Kid Plans and South By Southeast, but should also stand alone.

Trouble in Cargill

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Still no signs of a posse Kid," called Heyes.

The slender dark haired man watched over his shoulder, both for signs of pursuit and to check on his quiet cousin. Kid hadn't said a word since leaving Matherville. The hurried hoof beats of the horses had been the only sound besides Heyes' chatter for the past hour. For the first time since the partners had left Matherville, Kid's face expressed some emotion. Surprise.

"Heyes," replied the blond man, "if the sheriff of Matherville was gonna arrest me for killing Danny, he would have done it while we were standing in front of him."

"Wouldn't be the first man to change his mind…," began Heyes.

"Did you change your mind?" asked Kid. At Heyes confused expression, Kid added, "About Danny?"

Heyes pulled back on the reins, slowing his horse from a canter to a trot. The dark haired former outlaw had been quite clear. Heyes hadn't wanted Kid to go after Danny. Nothing he or Kid could do would ever bring back Seth. Tangling with Danny Bilson was a danger the partners didn't need.

"I reckon, if ever a man deserved killing," replied Heyes slowly, "it was Danny."

And then Kid asked a question which proved he had been listening to Heyes' babble all morning.

"And you think I still deserve a chance at amnesty?"

"Yes!" Heyes vehement exclamation startled the horses and Kid too. "Don't you ever forget, you were leaving! Danny came after you! Danny was the one who wouldn't let you walk away!"

"Yeah Heyes," said Kid softly. "I know, I was there."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Just after noon, the partners stopped at a watering hole. Men and horses settled in the scant shade provided by a rocky outcropping and two piñon trees. As the horses nipped at the grassy undergrowth, Heyes unwrapped the brown paper package he'd obtained from the cook at the Matherville diner earlier that morning.

"Sausage and biscuit?" asked Heyes, "Or ham and biscuit?"

"Neither," replied Kid. "I'm not hungry."

Brown eyes widened in surprise at his cousin's response. Kid took off his floppy brown hat and settled back against the shadowed ledge.

"You should eat something, keep up your strength," urged Heyes, "We need to get going soon, we've still got a long ride ahead."

"Heyes, we're better off resting here in the shade for a while, than riding on in the midday sun," objected Kid. Blue eyes closed. A long fingered hand settled the hat over his face. "Right now, I want to sleep. Wake me up if there's trouble."

Heyes sucked in a sharp breath. Kid's familiar phrase felt like a punch in the gut. Whether tracking down a murderer or keeping a kitten from pouncing on him at a train station, Kid always had his back. Heyes closed his eyes tight, remembering his conversation with Danny Bilson this morning. Had he really thought telling Danny to lay low was going to keep the ever smiling gunslinger away from Kid? Or, had Heyes words sent trouble directly towards Kid?

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Later that evening under a clear, starlit sky, Kid began to toss and turn, much as he had during his restless nap earlier. Heyes listened to the blond's muttering in concern.

"Kid," called out Heyes softly. Except for Valparaiso and the first few days at Seth's mine, Kid seldom had bad dreams. "Kid, wake up."

Scrambling hands and feet. Kid was on his knees, revolver pulled, head twisting anxiously to the left, then to the right. Except for the snuffling of the horses and the crackling of the fire, all was quiet. Kid's eyes turned to Heyes.

"What's wrong?" whispered Kid.

"You tell me," replied Heyes. The dark haired Kansan prodded the campfire with a long sharp stick. "What were you dreaming about?"

His younger cousin rocked back on his heels, revolver still in his hand. Kid blinked, then took a deep breath and placed the weapon back in his holster. Twisting and turning, Kid sat back down on the dark gray blanket, stretching out his long legs, sock covered feet pointed towards Heyes.

"Seth, telling stories around the campfire," admitted Kid, "like Grampa Curry telling stories when we were little."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

_Memories flashed through Heyes's mind. Grampa Curry sat by the fire in his Aunt Mary's oak rocker. As the youngest grandchildren, Jed or Han's younger sister Cleo sometimes got the privilege of sitting in Grampa's lap, but more often the children sat on the floor. Usually the girls, dark haired Cleo and red haired Bridget and Maeve sat together on one side, while the boys, dark haired Han and his older brother Ptolemy sat with blond Jed and Henry. The old Irishman told magical tales…_

_"Back in the old country," Grampa would begin with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, "a land so green..."_

_When Seth started spinning his tales of treasure, Kid would find some reason to move inside the mine. Listening, blue eyes glowing in the firelight, Kid looked like a little boy again. Seth's stories had been wonderous too._

_"It was back in sixty-nine," started Seth with a conspiratorial grin, "there was gold bright and shining…"_

_When Seth's story telling stopped, Kid always moved back to the mine's entrance where he kept his bedroll, within sight of the stars. Heyes had been the one to convince Kid into joining Seth at the gold diggings. Years ago, when the Kansas cousins had first travelled out of Texas, Clem had tried to get them to work in the Colorado silver mines. It was one of the few times Clem hadn't been able to get Kid to do what she wanted._

_"No," replied Kid._

"_I know jobs are hard to find," Clem started, she crossed her arms over her chest with a petulant frown, "but mining is honest work."_

"_Ain't going to work in no dark hole in the ground," said Kid shaking his head._

_"But Jed…"_

_Kid didn't even argue. The blond just stalked out of the room. Clem's mouth dropped open._

_"Afraid of the dark?" asked Clem in surprise. "I never thought Jed was afraid of anything."_

"_Clem, only a fool isn't afraid of something," Heyes tried to explain._

_"Well Jed's certainly no fool," replied Clem._

_"Jed's not afraid of the dark either, but dark, enclosed spaces… well, I reckon they might bring back bad memories," continued Heyes in a soft tone._

_His dark brown eyes pleaded with Clem for understanding. Outside, the sounds of Kid shooting tin cans off the fence railing began. Clem still looked puzzled._

_"In Valparaiso, sometimes boys were punished by being locked in isolation rooms," added Heyes with a sigh. "Think of it as solitary confinement for school boys."_

_Mention of that awful school seemed to be enough. Clem's face softened with understanding. Heyes wasn't going to say anything more. He certainly wasn't going to tell Clem about the root cellar in Kansas._

_"Well, maybe mining isn't the best idea," agreed Clem, "but two smart men such as yourselves should be able to find something to do," with a pointed look at Heyes, Clem added, "something legal."_

_Kid always insisted on a hotel room with a window overlooking the main street. Whether the view was really necessary for security, or just for Kid's peace of mind, Heyes didn't know. Heyes remembered, that last night at the mine… when Seth, Heyes and Kid drank themselves silly, silly with happiness. Kid passed out inside the dark mine. Heyes passed out soon afterwards. And trouble had come when neither of the partners was watching._

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Grampa's stories were something," replied Heyes with a soft smile.

"Fionn McCool, Niall of the Nine Hostages, Niamh of the Golden Hair," Kid recited the long ago names of Irish legends with an answering smile. The blond continued the litany with American tales from Seth's stories, "The Lost Padre Mine, The Red Hill Treasure..."

Kid's voice trailed off. There was a momentary quiet beneath the starlight. Heyes swallowed with the sudden realization, the memories of two kindly old men telling tall tales. One more reason why Kid hadn't been able to let Danny go.

"Fionn McCool," repeated Heyes in a reverent tone, "the bravest warrior to ever defend Ireland, a giant of a man..."

"Or just plain giant," interrupted Kid with a chuckle.

Heyes laughed out loud as he remembered Grampa Curry's tales of the legendary warrior. Kid leaned back further, resting his shoulders against his saddle. Brown eyes watched blue eyes blink in the firelight as the silver tongued wonder spun an epic.

"Yeah Kid, Fionn was the biggest, bravest, strongest warrior in all Ireland," continued Heyes as he prodded the flickering embers of the campfire, "with the wisdom of a salmon…"

"And white blond hair, not dark like your Pa's," reminded Kid with a yawn.

Heyes stopped in midsentence and looked at his cousin in puzzlement.

"Fionn was fair haired," agreed Heyes with a nod of a head covered in the same shade of dark brown hair he had inherited from Arthur Heyes, "no one ever said he had brown hair. Why did you think that?"

"You remember, Grampa Curry called your Pa Fionn sometimes," mumbled Kid as he slid further down the saddle. Shoulders touched blanket as a blond head rested against the leather.

"Finn," corrected Heyes, "Grampa, and sometimes Ma, both called Pa Finn. I just figured it was a term of endearment."

"What?" asked a sleepy Kid.

Heyes tried to explain the phrase term of endearment. Kid shook his head.

"Nah, not Fionn or Finn however you want to pronounce it. Fionn is a name," replied Kid. "Mo chroí would be a term of endearment."

Heyes blinked in surprise at the sound of the old Gaelic phrase. His parents had spoken the melodic language at home sometimes, but Heyes couldn't remember many of the words.

"They were probably the only Irish words that Ma could pronounce," continued Kid, blue eyes blinked, another yawn followed, "but when she called Pa my heart, Pa would always get this big grin on his face."

It had been years since Heyes had heard the familiar phrase. Tiny, blonde Mary Spencer had fled Britain with nothing more than a small bundle of belongings wrapped in oilcloth and a baby in her belly. The pretty young widow met the Curry family on the voyage to Philadelphia. Owen Curry and Mary Spencer were married when the boat docked, and three days later little Henry was born, receiving a long list of names ending in Curry.

"Grampa always said your Ma was a crook," reminded Heyes with a dimpled smile.

"But the only thing she ever stole was Pa's heart," replied Kid with a chuckle at the old family joke. The blond stretched out long arms and longer legs and gave another yawn. "Are you gonna get on with the story?"

Heyes resumed the tale of Fionn McCool, but he kept wondering, why had Arthur Heyes been called Finn? More blinks, more yawns, then Kid nodded off. The slender dark haired man tossed his stick upon the fire. Heyes reached for his own light blue blanket and spread it over his cousin.

"Since you're asleep now," whispered Heyes in a low tone, "I'll take the watch, and see if I can keep us both out of trouble for a while."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Heyes," said Kid in a low voice as he leaned forward and looked around the border town of Cargill, "I don't like this."

The dark haired Kansan squinted his eyes against the bright afternoon sun. Of the six buildings comprising the town of Cargill Texas, the biggest one, was a dusty dry brown clapboard two story establishment labelled Sadie's Saloon and Sundries. Near Sadie's, a ramshackle barn advertised Jim's Finest Livery services, but the barn door swinging back and forth in the hot dry breeze made those services seem questionable at best. The three narrow frame buildings on the other side of the road looked as if they were propping each other up. At the end of the street stood a white washed brick building with iron bars on all the windows. It was clearly labelled jail. Not Sheriff's office, just jail. The town looked vacant.

"Just a short stop," said Heyes.

"We should just keep on riding," grumbled Kid.

"A few minutes, then we'll go."

Heyes swung down from his horse and looped the reins over the hitching post closest to the water trough. Behind him, Kid shook his blond head in dismay, before he too dismounted. Heyes gestured towards Sadie's Saloon and Sundries.

"Come on," urged Heyes, "I'll buy you a drink."

"If there's anyone there," said Kid, "and if they have anything to drink."

Inside, Sadie's Saloon and Sundries was surprisingly cool. The sundries comprised three shelves of canned goods, two bolts of calico leaning against a wall, and a rack of kettles with little white price tags dangling down. And there were two live people in the place. As they entered, a man lying with his face cradled in his arms on a nearby table snored loudly. An older woman with brown hair streaked with gray wiped a cloth across the long expanse of polished walnut that served as a bar.

"You must be Sadie," greeted Heyes.

The charming smile he flashed her direction would have received an answering smile from almost anyone else, but this woman just gave him a perfunctory nod.

"What'll ya have?" asked Sadie.

Upon Heyes request, Sadie poured two shots of whisky before returning to her polishing.

"Mighty quiet town you've got here," complimented Heyes.

"We thought it was a ghost town at first," added Kid, "until we saw fresh water in the horse trough."

Sadie stopped polishing the wood long enough to give a reply.

"Phht, ain't always this quiet," sniffed Sadie. "Everybody that can ride is off with the posse."

Brown eyes blinked wide in surprise. Beside Heyes, Kid set his shot glass down with a thump and started coughing.

"Posse?" asked Heyes as he turned to pound his partner between the shoulder blades. "What posse?"

"Murder over in Dalhart two days ago, Sheriff and his posse tracked the man headed this way, all the menfolk hurried to join up," responded Sadie. She looked past Heyes with a nod to the door behind him. "Reckon that's them coming back now."

Heyes didn't bother to turn around. The sound of horses squealing and whinnying, hooves beating on the dusty road outside told him more than Sadie had. A big posse, coming from wherever Dalhart was, to Cargill, taking everybody that could ride. He smiled in what he hoped was a disarming manner.

"Who's the sheriff of Dalhart?"

Outside, nickering animals sounded. The livery door banged against the stable. Boots stomped across the wooden porch. The door to Sadie's Saloon and Sundries swung open. Heyes closed his eyes and prayed. _Please, don't be anybody that we know._

"That would be me," replied a familiar voice.

Heyes spun around. Kid turned to look at the newcomer as well.

"Sheriff Coltrane," responded Heyes in surprise. "What a pleasure to meet you again. Aren't you a long way from Clarendon?"

"Not that far really," responded Coltrane, "but what brings you boys back to Texas?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Thank you, but we really were just getting ready to leave," responded Heyes.

Coltrane's offer to buy them both a drink seemed genuine, but Heyes felt twitchy. Something about the way the Sheriff was looking at them seemed off. It had been over a year since the partners had been in Clarendon, and when they left, the craggy faced man seemed convinced that they were really Joshua Smith and Thaddeus Jones. The sheriff had even given them a delivery for his brother.

"No, no," insisted Coltrane. The gray haired man picked up the bottle off the counter and nodded at Sadie. "Work is done for today. Have a drink with me. We need to catch up on old times."

"Our horses are outside in the heat," reminded Heyes. "We really weren't planning on staying…"

"The livery has everything your horses need," interrupted Coltrane. With a direct gaze at Kid, the sheriff added, "Hurry back, and we'll save you a drink."

Kid escaped outside, while Heyes followed Sheriff Coltrane to the rearmost table of the saloon. The stern older man set a bottle of whisky down and maneuvered into a chair facing the entrance. Heyes squeezed in on the other side as a rowdy bunch of men bustled through the front doors. Brown eyes searched for any more familiar faces.

"Claude's not there," said Coltrane quietly as he poured the amber liquor into the waiting shot glasses.

"What?" asked Heyes in surprise. The Kansan remembered the inept, nervous young deputy with a sinking feeling. "What happened? He… he…."

"Claude's fine," answered Sheriff Coltrane. "The young man decided being a deputy wasn't what he really wanted."

"Oh," sighed Heyes in relief. Then, curiosity prompted him to ask, "So what did Claude decide he really wanted to do?"

"Claude first got a job working with that Monroe feller over at the Clarendon News," explained Coltrane. "Claude seemed to like typesetting better than peace keeping."

"Monroe would be a good person to work with," Heyes responded. The former outlaw remembered his brief apprenticeship with another newsman where things hadn't gone so well. "I saw where the Clarendon News had an article reprinted in the Denver Post."

Deep throaty laughter erupted from Coltrane's mouth.

"You read that story about Carstairs' trial, didn't you?" demanded the Sheriff. At Heyes nod, the older man continued. "Monroe's article got picked up by several different papers, but Claude didn't stay with the paper."

"What's Claude doing now?" asked Heyes.

"Working at the diner," responded Coltrane. "I reckon what Claude really wanted was to do was impress Eula Mae."

The expression on Coltrane's face softened. A crooked smile spread across the older man's face. Across the saloon, the door opened and Kid stepped inside. The blond stood for a moment, assessing the room while he took off his gloves. Kid reached the table in time to hear the sheriff's next words.

"Claude makes a much better son-in-law than a deputy," confided Coltrane.

"Claude and Eula Mae!" beamed Heyes with a broad dimpled grin. "That's just wonderful! Congratulations!"

Nimble fingers pushed shot glasses across the table towards Kid and Coltrane.

"A toast," announced Heyes as he raised his own glass, "to Claude and Eula Mae."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Sadie brought three bowls of chili and a basket of cornbread muffins to the table. Between sips of whisky and bites of fiery chili, the talk returned to Carstairs trial.

"Carstairs employer, that banker feller McIntyre, arrived in town after you boys left," informed Coltrane with a nod. "McIntyre described Kid Curry and Hannibal Heyes in great detail."

Sheriff Coltrane narrowed his eyes as he looked from Heyes to Curry.

"Those outlaws sure sound an awful lot like you two," continued Coltrane softly. "McIntyre's description almost made me want to track you both down and bring you back to Clarendon."

"Really?" asked Heyes. He forced a smile upon his face, all the while trying to calm his churning stomach.

Across the table from him, Kid sat with a spoon full of chili halfway between bowl and mouth. Coltrane leaned back in his chair and laughed heartily as he turned to face Kid.

"Your Uncle Mac arrived the same day too. That old rascal described you both as paragons of virtue," chuckled the older man.

Kid's blue eyes widened in surprise. Heyes tried to remember if he had ever told his cousin that their erstwhile employer, Patrick J. McCreedy, had claimed Thaddeus Jones was his nephew. The dark haired former outlaw held his breath, hoping Kid wouldn't say anything. Kid clamped his mouth shut tight around a bite of chili and responded with a closed mouth smile.

"Then McCreedy read both Carstairs and McIntyre the riot act," said Coltrane with a tone of satisfaction. "Told them no bank employees of his should be shooting off guns in public places where innocent folks might get hurt."

"That sounds like Uncle Mac," agreed Heyes with a relieved grin. He broke a muffin, crumbling the cornbread over the top of his chili. "Good ole Uncle Mac, right Thaddeus?"

"Good ole Uncle Mac," echoed Kid with a nod.

"I got a telegram from your friend Trevors the day after," added Coltrane. The sheriff laid his spoon down beside his empty bowl and reached for another cornbread muffin.

"Oh?" asked Heyes. "And what did Lom have to say?"

"Not much, telegraph fees are high," responded Coltrane. "But about six months ago I transported a prisoner to Laramie. While I was there, I met your friend Trevors too."

Heyes shot a sharp look at Kid. Laramie, the location of the Wyoming Territorial Penitentiary. From what Coltrane was saying, it sounded like he met Lom on the Porterville sheriff's return from Kingsburg. But what would two lawman have to say about Joshua Smith and Thaddeus Jones? And who did Coltrane know in Laramie?

"The way I figure it, based on Leroy's description and the descriptions provided by Carstairs and McIntyre," continued Coltrane, "there are at least two men, maybe more, answering to the alias Kid Curry."

"Alias?" blurted out Kid.

"Yeah, of course," responded Coltrane, "you don't think Kid is the man's real name, do you?"

"Uh… no, I guess not," admitted Jedidiah "Kid" Curry. "Don't reckon I ever thought about it at all."

"Anyway, after I delivered my prisoner to the warden, I asked to see Gorman," said Coltrane as he tried to resume his story. "And Artie…"

"Artie? Artie Gorman?" exclaimed Kid. "What's he doing in Laramie? Is he alright? "

"Yeah, Artie Gorman," answered Sheriff Coltrane. His sharp eyes gaze directly at Kid as he continued, "Artie is as alright as anyone can be finishing up a sentence in the that place. Do you know him?"

Cool blue eyes gazed back at the gray eyed lawman. Kid didn't flinch.

"Yeah, I know Artie," answered Kid firmly. "He's a friend, a good friend. Artie took me in when I first came to Texas…"

"But Thaddeus hasn't seen Artie in ten years," interrupted Heyes. "We didn't know he'd gotten in trouble…"

Both Kid and Coltrane glanced sideways at Heyes with expressions of annoyance, but Heyes pressed for more information.

"Sheriff, how do you know Artie Gorman?" continued Heyes.

"Artie's a friend," answered Coltrane using almost the same words as Kid. "Artie and I rode together when we were young and wild."

Rode together? Heyes glanced at Kid. Did Coltrane mean rode together like Lom and the two of them? Or something else? Would Lom have told the older man about the amnesty deal? Coltrane picked up the whisky bottle and slowly twirled it around before he spoke again.

"But I met Eula Mae's mother," reminisced Coltrane, "and Artie, well Artie just keep meeting up with a whisky bottle and trouble."

The sheriff pushed the whisky bottle away from him with a sigh.

"I would have stopped to see Artie anyway," continued Coltrane, "but since he used to run crews of drovers down Waco way about the same time as Johnson was killed, I figured I would ask Artie if he remembered anything about Kid Curry."

Heyes sucked in a deep breath and forced a smile upon his face. He leaned forward in his chair to hear Coltrane's soft voice better. In the chair beside him, Kid Curry didn't move a muscle.

"Artie said he didn't know anything about anybody named Kid Curry," sighed Coltrane.

Heyes almost gave an answering sigh of relief, but then Coltrane spoke again.

"But when I asked Artie about fast, blond gunslingers," said the sheriff in satisfaction, "that's when I got some answers."

"Answers, huh," said Kid in a low disinterested tone.

The blond's best poker face didn't show any hint of the tension Heyes knew his cousin must be feeling.

"Artie said he only ever had two drovers that were seriously good with a gun, and he called both of the blond haired boys Kid," explained Coltrane.

"Imagine that," commented Heyes. He gritted his teeth together in a tight smile. "Two Kids."

"Artie swore he couldn't remember a thing about the first boy, beyond the fact that this blond fella was the fastest natural shootist he'd ever seen," drawled Coltrane. The sheriff leaned back in his chair with a speculative look in Kid's direction. "And according to Artie he was a nice boy, without a mean bone in his body."

The barely discernible relaxation in Kid's shoulder was probably only evident to Heyes, but the dark haired Kansan wasn't going to take a chance. Determined to steer the conversation away from his cousin, Heyes reached across the table and tapped his fingers on the green felt in front of Coltrane. The sheriff turned his steely gray eyes towards the man he knew as Joshua Smith.

"And the second boy?" asked Heyes.

"Artie fired him when he caught the boy sneaking around in the chuck wagon after dark," answered Coltrane. "Might have been named Bill or Will Danielson, or he mighta lied about that too."

"Really," said Heyes. Aside from being a fast draw and a killer, it seemed not much was known about the other gunman.

"The rest of the description is pretty much what Leroy said, tall, sandy blond hair," continued the sheriff before adding some new details, "had big teeth, smiled a lot."

-x-x-x-x-x-x


	6. More Trouble

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same story verse as Kid Plans and South By Southeast, but should also stand alone.

More Trouble

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Smiled a lot," repeated Heyes.

The partners glanced at each other. The coincidence wasn't lost on Kid either.

"Why do you think this man, Bill or Will or whatever, mighta lied about his name?" asked Kid. "Artie always was sorta forgetful about names."

"Yeah Thaddeus," agreed Coltrane as he turned to face the blond, "that's probably why Artie called everyone under the age of twenty Kid."

Heyes heard the subtle change in Coltrane's voice as the sheriff called his partner Thaddeus. Coltrane had been staring at Kid all throughout their meal. Heyes was really beginning to worry. What had Lom told the Texas lawman?

"The law in Waco figured the shootout was a fair fight," continued the gray haired sheriff, "so nobody was really concerned about where this man disappeared to, except Leroy."

Heyes remembered Leroy Johnson. Neither partner was likely to forget the man who swore up and down in the Clarendon jail that Thaddeus Jones was not Kid Curry, but Heyes also remembered the angry man in a Waco saloon bent on revenge.

"Leroy tried to track down the man who killed his brother for several years," reminded Coltrane.

Heyes leaned back in his chair and pushed the empty bowl of chili to one side.

"The gunman who identified himself as Kid Curry in Waco used the name Bill Danielson in Fort Worth. Kid Whatever got into a shootout there too," informed the sheriff. "The card sharp called himself Will Danielson in Abilene, but by the time he got to Lubbock he changed his name to Daniel Wilson. Wilson disappeared after two men were killed, shot in the back one night, and no one has heard from him since."

"Leroy's sure it was the same man?" asked Heyes carefully.

Coltrane nodded in response. Heyes considered the odds. Bill or Will Danielson, Daniel Wilson, could the man have changed his name yet again? Could the tall, blond, straight haired, smiling shootist also have been called Danny Bilson?

"As a lawman I've got to look out for public safety first, that's part of why I've been following up on this issue," stated Coltrane, with a glance from Curry to Heyes. "I'd hate to think I let dangerous men loose on the public."

Heyes swallowed as he noted the plural, men.

"The other Kid Curry appears to have left Texas for Wyoming," said Coltrane with a grim smile on his face. "Made the papers a few times for robbery and such, but he definitely wasn't the same man that Leroy was tracking around Texas."

"You don't say," replied Heyes with a tight close lipped smile on his face.

"Your friend Trevors told me Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry did a lot of outlawing in Wyoming and other places," added the sheriff. Coltrane rubbed his chin as his eyes glanced back at Heyes' blond partner, "but they never shot anyone."

Heyes had a queasy feeling in his stomach that had nothing to do with his earlier meal of spicy chili. How much had Lom told Coltrane? Coltrane straightened up suddenly in his chair and slammed a heavy hand on the table.

"I got it, something's been bothering me ever since I laid eyes on you two today," declared the craggy faced man, "I don't know why it took me so long to figure it out."

"Really?" asked Heyes with a sinking heart. "What is it?"

The sheriff pointed at Kid.

"Thaddeus, you've grown a moustache," replied Coltrane. The older man shook his head. "Frankly, I don't think it suits you."

The relief Heyes felt caused a genuine smile to spread across his face. A wide dimpled smile lit up his entire countenance, brightening his dark eyes. He turned towards Kid.

"Thaddeus, I keep telling you," said Heyes, "you should shave that hairy lip ornament off."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"You're leaving?" asked Heyes a short while later as Coltrane pushed his chair back from the table.

Coltrane gestured towards the window. The sun hung low in the western sky painting the blue sky with rosy hues of pink transforming into orange.

"Dalhart is about two hours ride due east," replied Coltrane as he stood up. "Easier on the horses and men both to ride back now."

The other members of the posse reacted to the sheriff's rise. Chairs scraped across the floor, boots stomped and men headed out the saloon door towards the livery.

"I just wish we had caught up to that no good, low down, miscreant that murdered Anselm," sighed Coltrane.

Heyes must have looked as puzzled as Kid.

"Anselm Meyer, a good friend of mine, was killed two days ago," explained Coltrane. "His daughter telegraphed Clarendon. I left my deputy in charge and came right away. For the time being, I'm temporary acting sheriff in Dalhart, but I can't take a posse across the border."

"Really?" asked Kid sounding surprised. "I thought a posse could go anywhere."

"Some do, not mine," replied the sheriff firmly. "Bounty hunters, on the other hand, can cross state lines and go anywhere."

"So I've heard," replied Heyes with a slightly sour tone.

The last members of the posse had now left. Coltrane glanced around the room. The snoring man was still sprawled across the table by the door. Sadie was back at the bar polishing wood again. The sheriff squatted his knees a bit and lowered himself down, his head level with the seated partners.

"You've got family and friends in Texas," reminded Coltrane in a low tone. With a little emphasis on his next word, he added, "Honest men like Thaddeus Jones and Joshua Smith will always be welcome in Clarendon. No matter what mistakes you boys might have made elsewhere."

Heyes' jaw dropped open and he gaped in astonishment as the sheriff strode out of the saloon.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Coltrane knows who we are," insisted Heyes as he paced across the room above Sadie's Saloon.

Hotel rooms were also part of the offerings found at Sadie's Saloon and Sundries. With the departure of the posse, the partners decided it was safe enough to spend two dollars on a room upstairs. A straight backed chair propped beneath the door handle was set to ensure both men would be able to enjoy a good night's sleep, if only Heyes would quit pacing.

"Does it matter?" asked Kid.

The lanky blond was stretched out on a big brass bed covered with a red and white patchwork quilt. Long legs were crossed at the ankles, hands clasped behind his head. Boots were toppled haphazardly on the floor and Kid's gun belt was draped over the headboard along with his shirt.

"And I'll bet he knows about the amnesty deal!" exclaimed Heyes.

"Lom probably told him."

"Hmmph!"

The frustrated genius threw his hands up in the air as he turned and began to stalk back across the braided rag rug in the opposite direction, shaking his hands as he spoke.

"But Lom said it was a secret!" huffed the dark haired former outlaw.

"Lom also said the governor only wanted us to stay out of trouble for a year," reminded Kid in a testy tone of voice, "before he would grant the amnesty."

Heyes stopped abruptly and lowered his hands. The slender man turned to look at his frowning cousin.

"Kid," responded Heyes softly, "I think August Binford and the trouble in Kingsburg might be the reason behind the delay."

If anything, Kid's scowl deepened. The muscular young man moved his hands to fold his arms across his chest. Kid's jaw jutted out as he clenched his teeth. It was a moment before the blond spoke.

"We proved it wasn't us murdered that man in Kingsburg," replied Kid stubbornly. "What do you think the governor's gonna say when he hears about Danny? Someone I really killed?"

"Killed, not murdered," said Heyes forcefully. Then Heyes repeated what he'd said yesterday when they left Matherville, "Lom can explain to the governor..."

"A man is dead Heyes," interrupted Kid.

"A bad man," clarified Heyes quickly. He held up a hand and started ticking off fingers as he recited names and locations, bringing a second hand to join the first. "Danny was willing to leave you, me and Seth to die, and if he's the same man that killed Johnson, and those men in Fort Worth and Lubbuck…"

"Heyes," sighed Kid as he shook his head. The muscular blond uncrossed his arms and pushed himself up into a sitting position on the bed. "Making Danny out to be a worse man don't make my killing him any better, and I've shot other men too."

Maybe Kid had a point, but Heyes remembered the taunts Danny shouted in the Matherville street. Danny's talk about sneaking around in the dark sounded as if the smiling gunslinger had some experience on the subject.

"Kid, most of the times I've seen you draw down on a man you haven't had to shoot," reminded Heyes, "and when you have fired, mostly you shoot the gun or the holster…"

"Heyes," interrupted Kid, "I've shot people too, you know that."

"But that's just it, in the hand and in the arm," said Heyes nodding eagerly, "and they were wearing their guns tied down on their legs."

"Huh?" asked Kid. "What's it matter where there guns were?"

"Danny had his pistol stuck in the front of his pants," reminded Heyes.

Kid's blue eyes rolled.

"Yeah," agreed Kid, "I couldn't believe he'd do such a dang fool thing either. Putting a loaded gun there is just asking for trouble."

Now it was Heyes turn to be confused.

"What?" asked Heyes.

"I saw Carstairs shoot himself in the foot," reminded Kid. The blond made a gesture towards an integral part of his anatomy. "I ain't never gonna put a gun there."

Heyes' brown eyes winced as he realized what Kid meant. He swallowed before speaking again.

"Kid, I just meant," explained Heyes, "that maybe the reason you hit Danny in the center of his chest was because of where he had his gun. Were you aiming for Danny's hand? Was it an accident that you killed Danny?"

Kid's mouth dropped open. Heyes watched as the blue eyes widened incredulously. It was a moment before his cousin could speak.

"No Heyes, shooting Danny wasn't an accident," replied Kid quietly in the gentle tone that he used for calming skittish horses. The blond reminded his partner, "I usually hit what I aim for, and I got real lucky yesterday… Danny didn't shoot me first."

Yesterday. Heyes was jolted by the reminder. Was it only yesterday morning that they were in Matherville?

"Kid," Heyes started with a hiss, but he stopped when his partner shook his head.

"Heyes, I ain't that good little boy Artie told the sheriff about," said Kid. "In fact, I don't think I've ever been a good little boy and certainly not a good man."

Heyes blinked in surprise. While the dark haired Kansan didn't need a reminder that his cousin was a grown man, and sometimes a dangerous man, apparently Kid needed a reminder that he was also a good man.

"You're a good man," snapped Heyes. His slender hand gestured towards his partner in an up and down motion. "We've both made mistakes, but you wanted to change, you're the reason we're trying for amnesty. If it wasn't for you, we'd probably be dead already… likely shot by Harry Briscoe while trying to rob the train to Brimstone, if not sooner."

There was a momentary silence.

"You wouldn't think I was such a good man if you knew what I thought about sometimes," muttered Kid with a sigh as he folded his arms back across his chest.

"Kid," replied Heyes with a grateful smile, "we can't be arrested for thinking."

Heyes was sure Kid didn't know some of the dark thoughts in Heyes' mind. The dark haired former outlaw clenched his teeth as he remembered beating Harry Wagener. Heyes had wanted to kill that man just as he had wanted to kill Danny Bilson. Both Wagener and Bilson threatened his cousin's life. Heyes would do anything to protect Kid. Now, it seemed as if Kid was in a different type of danger. Heyes had noticed for quite some time now that Kid was getting moodier. All this travelling around, constantly on the run, was getting to both of them, but Heyes had a plan to bring back some of the simple joys in life.

"Kid, I've been thinking," began Heyes.

A groan came from his cousin.

"Seriously?" demanded Kid. He leaned back down on the pillows and threw one arm over his eyes. "Can't we get some sleep?"

"Coming to Texas was a mistake," continued Heyes. "We should be heading north, by northwest."

"Why?" asked Kid.

"Denver is that direction," answered Heyes, "and so is Clem."

Kid's arm came off of his face. The blond rolled on his side to look at his cousin. Instead of the happy smile Heyes expected to see, the blond's face suddenly looked haunted.

"Clem never held with us outlawing," reminded Kid, "what's she gonna say when she finds out I killed a man?"

"Clem's gonna say Danny got what he deserved," reassured Heyes quickly.

Kid's expression looked doubtful.

"Clem wouldn't want you to be hurt," reminded Heyes. "She loves you."

"Clem loves both of us," corrected Kid.

"Yeah, but she loves you more," replied Heyes with a smirk.

Kid raised one eyebrow up and looked at Heyes askance.

"Now that's just childish," countered Kid. "There's different kinds of love, but love isn't about more or less, it just is."

Heyes smiled at his cousin. Was love ever that simple?

"Clem loves you more," repeated Heyes with a chuckle.

Blue eyes rolled in exasperation as Heyes strode towards the other brass bed and began to unbutton the cuffs of his black shirt.

"Heyes, sometimes you worry me," replied Kid with a small shake of his curly blond head.

"We'll start for Denver first thing tomorrow morning," said Heyes. "And if we're lucky, we should be at Clem's in time for Thanksgiving."

"Really?" asked Kid. This time, his face lit up with a broad smile.

"Yes. And if Lom can tell Coltrane about the amnesty deal," declared Heyes, "then we can tell Clem."

"Heyes," reminded Kid as he leaned back and settled his head upon the pillow, "I've been telling you that since we first started trying for amnesty."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Hey Mister," called a soft voice.

Heyes looked up from the cinch he was tightening. A tall, blond youth stood in the shadows of the entrance to the livery. Dressed in black pants tucked into black leather boots, and a bulky black tweed coat, the owner of the voice appeared nervous. It was hard for Heyes to make out the newcomer's angular face, especially with a broad brimmed black hat pulled forward shading the eyes. Wisps of golden blonde curls peeked out from underneath the rear brim of the hat and turned up as the hair reached the collar. The speaker had to be young, thought Heyes. There was no sign of whiskers, not even the soft peach fuzz that Kid had sported from the beginnings of puberty into his late teens.

"You talking to me?" asked Heyes.

The long legged blonde stepped forward, moving closer towards the stall. The gangly, awkward movement reminded Heyes of his cousin at thirteen. Kid had been all arms and legs, gaining several inches in height and growing through four shoe sizes that last spring before Heyes left the Home for Wayward Boys. The horse in front of the dark haired Kansan whinnied in concern at the stranger's approach. Heyes finished tightening the saddle down and soothed the nervous animal with a soft stroke along its withers.

"Don't get too close," warned Heyes, "the gelding can't see you and might kick back."

The stranger stopped. The sound of a throat being cleared was followed by a high pitched squawk. Heyes glanced away briefly as the youth stopped speaking. The former outlaw remembered how embarrassed he had been by unruly voice changes when he was a teen. The stranger coughed again. This time, the teen's voice came out in a soft low tone.

"I heard Sheriff Coltrane talking yesterday. He said you and your partner provide secure, guaranteed deliveries throughout the entire west," said the teen. "Is that true?"

"Yeah," agreed Heyes with a nod.

"Anything?"

Heyes narrowed his eyes as he tried to look closer at the person standing before him. If Coltrane had told the teen to speak to Joshua Smith, Heyes could be sure the teen wasn't planning something criminal. But the youth had only overheard Coltrane... best make sure.

"Anything legal," clarified Heyes. "Why are you asking?"

"I want to hire you," replied the youngster. The head tilted up and blue eyes gazed directly at Heyes for the first time. "I want you to hire you for a delivery to the Sangre de Cristo mountains."

Heyes sucked in a deep breath at the mention of those mountains. Seth's mine had been at the southern end of the range.

"The Sangre de Cristo mountain range covers a lot of territory," replied the dark haired man with a tight smile and a negative shake of his head. "I don't think my partner and I…"

The youth hurriedly reached into the coat pocket and withdrew a handful of bank notes.

"I can pay," interrupted the teen, "and I didn't mean deliver to the whole entire mountain range. The delivery needs to go to a man. Jake Tattersall is travelling up through the mountains headed to Poncha Springs."

Heyes looked at the desperate blue eyes and the long, slim fingers clasping the money. The partners could use a paying job. The only money they had was what had been on their persons when Danny left with all the horses and gear, and that was going fast. The former outlaw closed his eyes for a minute trying to visualize the map. Heyes had gone through Poncha Pass on a number of different occasions. Poncha Springs was a little town just north of the pass. Going through the Sangre de Cristo mountains wasn't the most direct route to Denver, but the partners could still be at Clem's before Thanksgiving.

"My partner and I were headed to Colorado," acknowledged Heyes. "What is it you would like us to deliver?"

"Me," replied the blonde.

Heyes tried not to show how startled he was at that response.

"Do your Ma and Pa know about this?" asked Heyes. "We're not in the habit of aiding runaways…"

"My parents are both dead," responded the tall blonde.

"Is this Tattersall fellow a relative?" asked Heyes.

"Yes."

Nothing more seemed to be forthcoming. Heyes asked one more question.

"So what do I call you?"

"Matt," replied the blonde.

"Well Matt," said Heyes as he turned back to the horse, "if you've got a horse, get it saddled and you can come with us. We're leaving as soon as my partner finishes his breakfast."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

In a small town in western Pennsylvania, a tall, blond man limped out of the dry goods store to the waiting buggy. The thirty-six year old smiled at the beautiful red-haired woman he was lucky enough to call his wife. A little strawberry blonde bounced up and down with excitement at her mother's side. The question in the child's eyes was evident. Henry passed the smallest brown paper bag to the little girl.

"Just one Mary Moira," cautioned the former cavalry messenger. "Then give the bag to your mother."

Henry passed the rest of the packages and a folded up newspaper to his wife before climbing laboriously up into the buggy. The blond picked up the reins and clicked his tongue to encourage the horses on the return journey to their farm.

"Eileen, we should stop by Aunt Katie's," said Henry softly. "The paper has an article about Kid Curry and Hannibal Heyes."

"I don't think Ma's heart could take it," replied Eileen. "She took to her bed after hearing about what happened in Kingsburg."

"The article says that was all a lie concocted by someone named Binford trying to blame someone else for his own crime," replied Henry.

A dimpled smile spread across the woman's face, her green eyes lit up in relief.

"I knew it had to be a mistake!" exclaimed Eileen. "The boys had never done anything violent before."

"The boys shouldn't have been on their own all these years," grumbled Henry. "When Aunt Katie and I went back to Kansas after the war ended, the town clerk swore there was no record of a nine year old boy named Jedidiah Curry in the Children's Home."

"Things were still very unsettled then," reminded Eileen.

"The records office didn't have any report of a thirteen year old boy named Hannibal Heyes either," continued Henry. "And I asked the clerk to check both the Home for Boys and the Home For Wayward Boys records. How do you lose two boys?"

Henry pulled on the reins, turning the buggy down a narrow lane. A white clapboard farmhouse stood at the end of the lane.

"Somehow, I missed finding them!" growled Henry in frustration. "I should have searched harder."

Eileen Smythe Curry reached a slender hand forward to pat her husband on his leg. She remembered the last letter received from Aunt Moira. The devastating news of the loss of Uncle Owen, Aunt Mary, Maeve and Bridget was followed by no other letters. It wasn't until after the war ended that her mother travelled to Kansas with the wheel chair bound twenty year old Henry in search of their missing family. In Kansas, they learned of the deaths of Grampa Curry, Aunt Moira, Uncle Arthur and Cleo, but no one knew what had become of Jed and Han.

"You shouldn't have been travelling then. You weren't fully recuperated," reminded Eileen. Her mother had cut the search short when Henry suffered a relapse, insisting on a return to Pennsylvania. "You nearly died."

Henry shrugged. The damage to his leg was never going to be totally healed. And if he walked with a limp for the rest of his days that was a blessing. Henry knew he was lucky to be alive. Rebuilding his life after the war was a slow process, but at least he hadn't been alone. In the years following the war, news from the west travelled east slowly. It was over ten years before Henry read the names Jedidiah Curry and Hannibal Heyes in the newspaper.

"I should have gone to Wyoming when I first read about Curry and Heyes in the Gettysburg Gazette," grumbled Henry.

Eileen remembered their same discussion five years ago. She stroked her hand across the four and a half year old child's head. Mary Moira looked up at her mother, mouth streaked red with licorice and grinned. The child's impending birth, followed by the lengthy illness of Eileen's father, had precluded any thoughts of travel then. A newspaper article reporting a shoot out in Hanford and the supposed deaths of Curry and Heyes two years ago crushed any further hopes of finding the lost boys. But now?

"Wyoming is a big territory, and we don't know if they are still in Wyoming, or even if it really is them," replied his wife. "It could just be someone using their names."

"If my brother or cousin are alive, and need me," insisted Henry, "if there is something I can do to help them…"

Henry's voice trailed off in anguish. Eileen nodded in agreement. The redhead just had one question.

"Where would we start looking?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Heyes left Matt standing in the street with the horses. The quiet youth had followed Heyes from the livery to Sadie's Saloon and Sundries. There Heyes learned Kid had already finished breakfast and gone. As Heyes entered the small telegraph office, he didn't know whether he was more impressed with the fact that a small town the size of Cargill had a telegraph office, or the fact that the ramshackle structure hadn't collapsed. Inside, his partner reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of coins setting them on the counter in front of the telegraph operator.

"Thaddeus," greeted Heyes, "I didn't know you were sending a telegram."

"Two," replied the muscular blond.

"Two telegrams?" asked Heyes in surprise.

"Yeah Joshua, one to Leroy Johnson care of the Clarendon Sheriff's office," explained Kid. "The other is to Lurene… I thought she should know."

Before Heyes could voice his objections the clerk interrupted.

"That will be one dollar and eighty-five cents."

"Let me see those telegrams," insisted Heyes as he reached across the counter for the paper, "maybe we can shorten the message, or maybe we don't have to send these telegrams at all."

Kid turned his level blue eyed gaze towards his cousin. There was something determined in the younger Kansan's look that made Heyes know, his partner thought these telegrams were essential. Heyes looked down to read the first paper. The telegram to Lurene was short and to the point, _Danny dead Matherville_. The telegram to Leroy Johnson was longer, _Man called Danny Bilson dead Matherville, might be Daniel Wilson, see undertaker for photograph._ Heyes swallowed. Postmortem photography was a practice that Heyes couldn't abide, and he knew his cousin felt the same way. Heyes had hoped his cousin hadn't seen the man hauling a camera and tripod out into the street as they rode out of Matherville, but of course Kid's alert eyes noticed everything.

"Do we really need to send these telegrams Thaddeus?" asked Heyes. "Can we afford this?"

His hand covered the papers, while the telegraph operator glanced from one partner to the other.

"Yes," insisted Kid. There was a pause and then Kid added, "I can't afford not to."

Heyes held the papers a moment longer before pushing them back towards the telegraph operator. He flashed a broad smile at his partner.

"Well then, pay the man," replied Heyes.

Kid counted out the appropriate amount of coins, then turned to leave. Heyes stepped up beside his cousin and clapped him on the back.

"It's a good thing I got us a paying job lined up," said Heyes.

"Oh yeah? What kind of job?" asked Kid as they stepped out into the bright sunlight.

"We're escorting a little orphan boy to meet a family member in Poncha Springs," replied Heyes. "His name is Matt."

Kid stopped and stared at the nearly six foot tall blonde holding the reins to their horses. It was a moment before he spoke.

"Matt might be an orphan," hissed Kid is a low voice, "but she ain't little, and she ain't no boy."

-x-x-x-x-x-x


	7. Trouble From Texas

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me, nor does True Grit. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same story verse as Kid Plans and South By Southeast, but should also stand alone.

Trouble From Texas

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"It was dark in the livery," repeated Heyes as the partners rode out of town. The redness in his face had faded, but Heyes was still embarrassed. "And she's dressed like a man!"

"Yes Joshua," replied Kid. Then he added in a conciliatory tone, "Everyone makes mistakes now and then. It could happen to anybody."

Heyes glanced at his partner. Blue eyes twinkled and there was a smirk on Kid's face. Heyes shook his head. Kid found Heyes' mistake humorous, despite all his protestations about the dark livery stable, the hat, the bulky coat, the pants no less. Heyes glanced back at the tall, blonde woman riding behind them. Matt's explanation, _Have you tried riding a horse while wearing a dress? _was understandable. She was in a hurry to find Jake Tattersall. And of course Kid wanted to help her.

"Yeah Thaddeus," agreed Heyes as a slow smile spread across his face. "It could happen to anybody."

A little embarrassment was a small price to pay for the privilege of riding out of town with his partner grinning.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"I thought the livery man said it was only three hours ride to the first watering hole," grumbled Kid.

The muscular blond took his brown hat off and wiped his blue sleeve across his forehead before replacing the head covering. The midday sun shone brightly overhead. Endless blue sky spotted by an occasional puff of white met the dry sandy ground in every direction as far as the eye could see. The ground was dotted by an occasional rock or clump of low growing greenish gray scrub brush. Except for two jackrabbits cavorting happily and one fleeting glimpse of a roadrunner, they hadn't seen any other signs of life.

"Maybe the stableman rode a race horse," replied Heyes. The dark haired Kansan took another sip from the canteen and passed it to his partner. Heyes pointed to a distant outcropping of jumbled stones. "That's got to be the watering hole."

"How are you tracking Tattersall?" asked Matt with a hint of a frown.

"We're not tracking Tattersall," responded Kid. He pointed to the faint outlines of the northwest trail. "If he left Cargill headed to Poncha Springs, he's somewhere ahead of us on this trail."

"That's a trail?"

The slim blonde pulled a white lace handkerchief from her pocket, the first feminine accoutrement that Heyes had seen. She closed her blue eyes and patted at the sheen of sweat covering her face. Matt had to be roasting beneath that bulky black coat thought Heyes, but she'd need it once they got into the mountains.

"Miss Tattersall," offered Kid politely as he held the canteen towards her.

"Matt, Matt Markham," corrected the young woman. Blue eyes met blue eyes. The woman's frown softened as she reached for the canteen. "And it's not Miss, it's Missus."

Brown eyes widened in surprise. The woman he had thought reminded him of Kid as an adolescent didn't look to be out of her teens. While he hadn't thought twice about helping an orphaned boy, Heyes was beginning to have serious second thoughts about helping this woman. Was she a runaway wife? Matt had said Tattersall was a relative, but was he really her lover?

"Mrs. Markham…," began Kid.

"No, that's not right either," interrupted Matt. Beneath her dark black hat, wavy blonde hair bounced on the edge of her collar as she shook her head. "My husband died last year. It should be Widow Markham, but I don't really feel like a Widow Markham. That was my mother-in-law."

The shocked partners exchanged an uncertain glance. Heyes would have felt ashamed of his uncharitable thoughts just moments before if he didn't feel so uneasy. At least, thought Heyes that ruled out the possibility of her being an errant wife. And it explained why she had to hire Smith and Jones to deliver her to her relative in Poncha Springs. Her husband certainly couldn't.

"My condolences Mrs. Markham…," began Heyes.

"I'd rather you boys called me Matt, or Mattie, just not Mrs. Markham and definitely not Widow Markham," continued Matt with another shake of her head.

"Anything to oblige a lady," said Kid with a congenial smile. "But Ma'am, if you expect us to call you Matt, you're going to have to return the favor. I'm Thaddeus, and my partner is Joshua."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Not enough shade," murmured Kid quietly from where he stood holding the reins to both of the partner's horses. Behind him, Matt remained seated on her horse, watching quietly.

Heyes squatted by the watering hole, dipping canteens one by one in the shallow water to refill them before Kid let the horses trample into the silty bottomed wetness. Brown eyes looked at the leafless tree fallen beside a blasted trunk. Caused by a lightning strike most likely, probably early spring, he thought. Not even enough rocks and branches to make a lean-to with even if they used all their blankets. A slender sprout rose up from between the roots of the broken trunk. Someday there might be shelter again, but not today.

"Ooh," hissed Matt as she dismounted.

Both Heyes and Kid glanced at the long legged woman as she limped down the low slope to the watering hole.

"Ma'am, are you okay?" asked Kid.

"Fine," replied Matt. "Three days in the saddle makes me feel a little stiff. I'm not used to riding so much."

Heyes had been worrying ever since the woman had revealed her last name wasn't Tattersall. The former outlaw berated himself. He'd been impulsive accepting this job. Hannibal Heyes hadn't done his research. If escorting this woman to Poncha Springs had been a heist, he and Kid would have already been arrested.

"Three days," repeated Heyes in a questioning tone, "do you mean you weren't leaving from Cargill?"

Matt stopped in midstride and turned to look at Heyes.

"Does it matter?"

"Not really," responded Heyes in an uninterested tone.

The mastermind shrugged his shoulders as if he hadn't a care in the world. Heyes never let a mark know when he was fishing for information. Thankfully, his partner unknowingly baited the hook.

"It matters where Tattersall started from," stated Kid, "so we have some idea of which trail he's on."

For a moment, Matt looked confused.

"The trail we're on is the most direct route to Poncha Springs from Cargill, but if he started somewhere else…," explained Heyes with a shrug. "There are a lot of trails."

Heyes held his breath. The woman didn't say anything for nearly a full minute.

"Tattersall left Dalhart three days ago," said Matt finally. "I've been trying to catch up with him ever since."

"Dalhart?" asked Heyes.

He gritted his teeth as he forced a smile across his face. Heyes remembered Sheriff Coltrane's talk about the murder in Dalhart. Was Tattersall the murderer? And she rushing to join her lover? Or had Heyes been reading too many penny dreadfuls? He tried to remember the name that Coltrane had mentioned. He threw out one more line.

"Anselm Meyer is Sheriff in Dalhart, right?" asked Heyes.

"No," replied Matt as she turned abruptly and moved with the horse to the water's edge. "Meyer's dead. Sheriff Coltrane from Clarendon is acting sheriff now."

The horse dipped its neck eagerly, reaching towards the water. Matt knelt down. She brushed back the side of her black coat to keep it out of the water as she dipped in her lacy handkerchief. Heyes didn't see her close her eyes tightly and wipe the wet lace across her face. Dark brown eyes were too busy staring at a wide leather belt around her waist and the weapon Matt carried. The large gun tucked into her belt looked like the old muzzle loaded relic Wheat had carried long ago.

"I didn't know you were carrying a gun," commented Heyes. He flashed what he hoped was a disarming smile to cover his growing concern. "Weapons like that can be dangerous."

The cold blue eyed gaze Matt turned on Heyes was worthy of Kid at his most fearsome. Her eyes travelled down his physique stopping at the holstered pistol on his hip.

"You and your partner both carry guns," reminded Matt. "It's protection. I've been travelling alone and didn't know who I could trust."

A sardonic smile spread across Heyes face. Funny, he knew the feeling. Heyes was beginning to wonder if he could trust her. Kid spoke first.

"Ma'am, we'll protect you," replied Kid. He tucked his thumbs into his belt and smiled confidently. "Part of the service you know, safe and secure delivery guaranteed."

Matt bestowed a bright smile upon Kid. Soft red lips opened wide, revealing even white teeth. Her hard gaze softened.

"Thank you Thaddeus," replied Matt as she stood up.

Heyes rolled his eyes at his partner's blush.

"You might want to watch where you point that thing," added Heyes in a dry tone as he gestured to the ancient weapon.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Twilight found the three rider's at another watering hole. Thankfully this one had trees and was surrounded by low lying bushes. The mouthwatering aroma of bacon sizzling in a tin frying pan soon filled the air. A meal of biscuits, bacon, beans and coffee went a long way towards making the weary travelers feel human again.

"Good coffee," said Matt.

She sat on her red saddle blanket and sipped the coffee contentedly. Kid's astonished look was almost enough to make Heyes laugh out loud, but the empty coffee pot was another matter. He wasn't used to making coffee for three.

"Glad you like it," replied Heyes. He rose up off his own light blue blanket to stand. As he walked towards the watering hole, he added, "I'll make some more."

A few minutes later, Heyes returned carrying a nearly full coffee pot. He neared the glowing campfire in time to hear his normally quiet cousin talking. Kid held Matt's gun in his large hands.

"Colt Army Revolver, Model 1860," noted Kid in approval as he turned the gun over. "Good, reliable weapon."

"It belonged to my father," replied Matt. "He had a newer model, but kept this one too."

"The newer models are quicker and easier to load, but the 1860 is still a fine piece of craftsmanship," said Kid with a nod. "You just have to be careful loading it. If you don't pack the ball and shot just right, you can get a chain fire."

Heyes stepped into the firelight and squatted down as he started to prepare the coffee.

"Oh no Joshua," said Matt. She reached out and touched his sleeve. "Thank you, but I really don't need any more coffee tonight."

"It's okay, I was going to make some anyway," replied Heyes. He glanced at his partner. Kid handed Matt back her gun. "I'll take first watch."

"Are you sure?" asked Kid. "I know you didn't get much sleep last night."

Heyes shook his head.

"Fine, have it your way, but don't say I didn't offer," replied Kid. With a nod to Matt, he added "Goodnight Ma'am."

Kid stretched his long legs out on his gray blanket and pulled the brim of his brown hat down blocking the firelight from his eyes. Matt sat on her blanket. She placed the old colt beside her saddle and glanced back at Kid with a puzzled expression on her face. Then she asked Kid a rather personal question.

"Don't you ever take your gun off?" asked Matt.

Kid pointed one finger up and poked the brim of his hat. He looked a little surprised.

"Yes Ma'am, when I go to sleep, or take a bath, or dance with a lady," replied Kid. The blue eyed man gestured towards Heyes. "But he really didn't get much rest last night, so I figure he'll be waking me for the next watch soon. No sense taking it off now."

Heyes was a little surprised by his partner's answer, and he would have been a little miffed to hear Kid predicting a short first watch, but he knew his partner was right. Heyes was tired.

"I can hear you," reminded Heyes. He stretched his arms and flexed his fingers towards the firelight. Something about Kid's response was niggling him, so Heyes asked, "Why do you take your gun off when you dance?"

"Balance," replied Kid quickly.

Heyes and Matt stared, Kid's face flushed as he tried to explain.

"You have to hold on to your partner…," continued Kid. Large hands reached out as if to clasp an imaginary partner by the shoulders. There was a pause, and Heyes' lips curled up in a smirk as Kid's face turned even redder. "It ain't polite to ask a lady…"

Heyes realized Kid was describing a slow dance like a waltz, not some of the more common dances such as a square dance or a reel or a jig. He remembered Kid's long ago dance lesson. Had that woman in Red Rock taught Kid a waltz? Kid looked flustered, then he pulled the brown hat back down over his eyes.

"Oh, good night."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Heyes managed to keep the first watch until just after midnight. A soft touch to the shoulder, and Kid was instantly alert. Heyes pointed to their travelling companion.

"She's been tossing and turning," remarked the sleepy dark haired man, "but everything else has been quiet."

Heyes's dark brown eyes closed as he drifted into a deep dreamless sleep, but it didn't last long. The former outlaw leader was jolted awake by Matt's scream. Heyes turned to see Kid kneeling at the woman's side. Kid grasped the woman by her shoulders and pulled her towards his chest. Keeping one arm securely around her, the brawny man gently stroked a hand through her wavy blonde hair.

"Matt, Matt," soothed Kid, "you're safe, nothin's gonna hurt you."

"There's so much blood," sobbed Matt.

"Blood?" asked Heyes. The older Kansan glanced around. The low burning embers of the campfire lit up their blanket area. Beyond the firelight, Heyes could see horses, trees, shadowed rocks and a starlit sky, but no blood. "Where?"

"It's all my fault," wailed Matt as she wept onto Kid's blue shirt. "I was supposed to bring Tattersall his meal…"

Shoulders shook with more sobs. Kid whispered shushing sounds. The hand stroking her head now patted her between the shoulder blades.

"Sssh, it's alright."

Matt pushed away from Kid. In the firelight, her loosened collar showed a glimpse of her throat. Dark bruises were visible.

"It's not alright!" exclaimed Matt.

The sobs turned to gulps and then hiccups as she tried to control her emotions. The tall blonde woman angrily wiped the tears away from her eyes.

"I got too close," explained Matt. "Tattersall grabbed me, told Pa he'd break my neck if he didn't let him out of the cell…"

Heyes gasped. The pieces of the puzzle named Matt Markham tumbled together like the lock of a safe opening and revealing it's contents. Heyes remembered what Coltrane had said about the murder in Dalhart. He really didn't need to hear Matt's next words to know.

"Tattersall took Pa's Schofield revolver," hiccupped Matt. The trembling bottom lip suddenly made the blonde woman look even younger. "He didn't need to shoot Pa."

"You're Sheriff Meyer's daughter!" exclaimed Heyes.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"I say we take her back to Cargill at first light," hissed Heyes angrily. "We ain't bounty hunters!"

The two men stood just the beyond the trees. The tethered horses shuffled their hooves uneasily at the disturbance. Heyes gave a sidelong glance up the slope towards the campsite. The tall blonde woman was curled up in a tight little ball on her red blanket with Kid's gray blanket tucked around her sleeping again.

"We need to help her Heyes," objected Kid. The blond man leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. "Her Pa and her husband are both dead. She's all alone."

"We don't need to help her bring Tattersall in to the law," hissed Heyes.

While Heyes hadn't minded being paid to escort the woman to meet a relative, he balked at taking her to capture a murderer. Kid didn't see it the same way.

"It ain't like it was with us and Danny," said Kid. Heyes looked at his cousin in surprise. Kid always knew what worried him. The younger Kansan continued, "Matt can stay and testify at a trial. All we have to do is help her find Tattersall and bring him in."

"We don't have to help her find Tattersall, that up to the law."

"The law doesn't catch everyone. Look at us," reminded Kid. Then he asked, "If we don't help her, who will?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x

The next morning, the tired trio rode north, northwest on the steady upward sloping trail. By midday, Heyes found himself glad to see a stand of cottonwoods in the distance.

"We'll stop at the watering hole," said Heyes.

The directive to rest the horses and themselves wasn't necessary. Kid and Matt looked as tired as Heyes felt.

"Beans and biscuits?" asked Kid.

"And coffee," mumbled Heyes. "Don't forget the coffee."

But Heyes dozed off before the coffee was ready. He woke a short while later to hear the sound of Matt and Kid talking.

"It's interesting to see how the countryside is beginning to change," said Matt. "But I suppose, with your delivery work, you must see all sorts of different places."

"Been around a bit," admitted Kid.

"I've never been out of Texas before," added Matt. "Born and raised in one little town. Lived there all my life."

Heyes stretched arms and legs as he unkinked tired muscles. He froze in mid-stretch when he heard Kid's next words.

"I was born in Kansas," responded Kid. With a gesture towards his partner, Kid added, "My brother, both sisters, and cousins were all born in Pennsylvania."

"Oh," said Matt in a surprised tone, "you're cousins?"

Heyes sat up straight and glared at his partner. Only Clem knew that they were related. They hadn't told the officials at the Home For Waywards, they hadn't even told Wheat and the boys.

"My partner and I are distantly related," Heyes lied smoothly as he joined their conversation. With a nonchalant smile, Heyes added, "It wasn't until we became partners that we found out we were second cousins."

Kid looked confused at being so summarily disowned.

"Once removed," added Heyes with a little extra dig at his cousin. "And Thaddeus, you're wrong. My sister was born in Steubenville."

Too late, Heyes realized he should have stopped talking sooner. Correcting Kid wasn't necessary and Matt didn't need to know Cleo had been born in Ohio. Kid however didn't seem to be done talking.

"Cleo was born on the trip west?" questioned Kid. Heyes wondered if Kid really had forgotten that or if his partner was trying to make his story mesh with Heyes' own distant cousin comment. At Matt's puzzled glance, Kid added, "Our families moved from Pennsylvania to Kansas Territory when it opened for settlement."

It wasn't until they were saddling the horses for the afternoon's trek that Heyes got a chance for a private word with his cousin.

"Were you gonna tell Matt our whole life story?" asked Heyes. "Why on earth would you tell her all that?"

"Sorry," mumbled Kid. The muscular blond glanced back at the watering hole where the woman was filling the last of the canteens. "Matt… she's just real easy to talk too."

"Kid!" hissed Heyes. "After we get the amnesty you can tell anybody you want about our family, but not now. Not yet."

"You still reckon we're going to get the amnesty?" asked Kid, his blue eyed gaze returning to settle on Heyes.

"I figure that's still a long ways off," answered Heyes. A long slender finger pointed towards the northwest trail. Mountains were faintly visible in the distance. "Today, we ride. And if we're lucky, we'll reach Willow Springs the day after next. And if we're very lucky, when we get there, we'll get a hotel room with a hot bath."

-x-x-x-x-x-x


	8. Trouble With A Capital T

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same story verse as Kid Plans and South By Southeast, but should also stand alone.

Trouble With A Capital T

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"I said I wasn't going to tell her any more about us, and I ain't," hissed Kid as he hauled his saddle off the gelding. "You don't need to ride between us like a chaperone."

Heyes glanced toward the riverbank. Matt was kneeling beside the water, filling the coffee pot. Earlier, it had surprised Heyes to find his younger cousin opening up to the woman. Kid was sometimes too trusting, but he was also usually close mouthed.

"Kid, it's not that I don't trust you to keep quiet," responded Heyes. "It's her. We've only got her word Tattersall was in jail awaiting extradition to Nevada."

"The nightmare, that scream," Kid shuddered, "the crying last night, you don't think she was faking that, do you?"

Heyes gave his partner a half smile and shook his head in response. Kid had a soft spot for women, even after meeting the duplicitous Grace Turner and the murderess Blanche Graham.

"No Kid, not unless she's a really good actress," sighed Heyes. "It's just the half-truths, and the lie… Tattersall a relative, now an escaped prisoner and a murderer… and why is she so sure he's going to Poncha Springs? I'm still trying to figure her out."

"What's to figure?" asked Kid. "She wants to see the man that killed her Pa brought to justice. If we could identify the men that killed our folks, wouldn't you want that?"

Heyes stared at Kid. After the raid that had killed Jed's parents and sisters, Union soldiers from the nearby fort had unsuccessfully searched for those murderers. The raiders that came to the Heyes farm later that same year were never clearly identified either. The boys only had a glimpse of the oncoming riders.

"If we could identify them…" Heyes' jaw clenched.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Late Saturday afternoon, three dusty dirty travelers rode into a small town. Many of the buildings were made of adobe. Some buildings were straight, square, purely utilitarian, but others showed a Spanish influence with graceful arches and ornate windows.

"Railroad has come to town since the last time I was here," said Heyes. He pointed towards the post office. "It looks like Willow Springs may have changed its name."

"Raton?" read Kid.

"In Spanish that means Little Mouse," interjected Matt as she wrinkled up her nose.

Heyes looked at the cleared ground on either side of the new railroad tracks. The digging, blasting and construction necessary for the new railway probably disturbed a lot of local wildlife, field mice included.

"Let's see about a hotel," said Heyes with a gesture towards the framed building down the street.

"And a bath," reminded both Matt and Kid.

The clerk informed the trio when they checked in at the hotel that the church was holding a social.

"All you can eat fried chicken supper, fifty cent donation to the bell fund," added the man. He looked at Matt's attire and raised one eyebrow.

"Is there any place else we can get a meal?" asked Heyes as he took the keys from the man's outstretched fingers.

"The saloon," sniffed the clerk.

Heyes glanced at Kid and Matt. Both of them were shaking their heads.

"Fried chicken sounds good," said Kid.

"First, I need a few minutes to change clothes," insisted Matt. She glanced down at her black attire. "I can't go dressed in Pa's clothing. You go ahead, I'll meet you there."

Kid finished his second helping of fried chicken while Heyes was still on his first plate. After three days of trail food, a meal of fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans and carrots was a welcome change. Heyes planned to savor his supper. The dark haired Kansan nudged his partner.

"The clerk forgot to mention the social has music," said Heyes as he watched three men carrying assorted instruments approach the raised floor at the front of the meeting hall. "Maybe they'll play something you can dance to."

"Heyes," said Kid in a warning tone.

"What?" asked Heyes in a teasing tone. With a gesture towards the women staring at the handsome newcomers from the next table, he added, "Are you going to waste that dance lesson and disappoint the ladies?"

Kid was saved from having to respond as Matt finally arrived. The blonde was easily the tallest woman at the social. The slim woman wore a pink dress with a high white collar. The faded bruises on her throat were not visible. The partners stood up as she reached their table. At the front of the room, the fiddler ran his bow across the strings. The man holding the concertina gave the accordion-like instrument a squeeze. The third man began plucking the strings of a large bass viol.

"Ooh," sighed Matt, her face lit up with a smile of recognition. Her eyes turned to watch.

Couples moved to the center of the floor the music began. Heyes and Kid exchanged a glance. Heyes shook his head. Kid gulped. Then the brave blond man turned to face Sheriff Meyer's daughter.

"Um, uh… Matt," stammered Kid. He gestured towards the dance floor. "Would you like to dance?"

"Oh no," answered Matt with a shrug of her shoulders. She turned to face Heyes and Kid. "Thank you Thaddeus, I love to listen to music, but I don't know how to dance. I'd probably step all over your feet."

Kid's grin spread across his face. Only Heyes knew how relieved his partner was, to anyone else watching, like the ladies at the next table, it looked as if Kid was smiling adoringly at Matt. The blond man pulled out a chair for Matt.

"I'm starving," Matt added. "Where's the chicken?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Heyes walked up the steep incline leading his horse as they neared the summit of Raton Pass. The unseasonably warm weather continued to allow them to make good progress along the trail. Behind him, Matt dressed in her black clothing again, followed. Kid brought up the rear as the threesome travelled the narrow trail beside the train tracks.

"The man at the livery said a man matching Tattersall's description left Raton two days ago," informed Heyes.

"We're gaining on him!" replied Matt grim satisfaction.

"Maybe, but the livery man said he was using a different name," said Heyes. "There are lots of men that fit the same general description."

"Yeah," agreed Kid. The tall blond man smirked as he recited Matt's description of Tattersall, "dark brown hair, brown eyes, medium build, just under six feet tall. Joshua, it almost sounds like you."

"Tattersall must be using an alias," insisted Matt. "It's got to be him."

"Maybe, maybe not," replied Heyes. Then he tried for some more information. "You sure seem to know a lot about this outlaw."

"Pa arrested him," shrugged Matt. "Tattersall talked a lot while waiting for extradition."

Heyes stopped and took a deep breath as he finally gained sight of the downward slope of the trail. Matt stopped beside him.

"That is Colorado," said Heyes as he pointed north. He flashed a dimpled smile as he began the descent. "Watch your step."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Several days later, Heyes, Matt and Kid were on another trail, ascending yet another steep mountain pass. From the information they had received at the last town, they thought they were a day's journey, maybe less, behind Tattersall. The main difference today was the cold damp drizzly rain, crumbling rock, and skittish horses. This narrow portion of the trail seemed to be getting narrower with every step they took. Matt's horse seemed especially temperamental as the storm approached.

"Joshua," called Kid. The alert man pointed to a wider spot ahead on the trail. Ponderosa pines soared skyward beside a flat topped boulder which gave some shelter from the brisk winds. "Tether your horse, then come back to lead Matt's."

Heyes nodded in agreement and kicked his heels gently to urge his gelding forward. Behind him, he heard Matt disagree.

"I can handle my own horse," insisted Matt.

The tall woman slid out of her saddle before either man could voice an objection. Grabbing the reins, Matt started to walk forward leading the recalcitrant equine. Rocks tumbled from the slope above further scaring the animal. The horse bolted, knocking Matt off balance. The blonde woman fell backwards against the muddy inner edge of the trail. Heyes tried to catch her horse as it galloped past him, but the animal was too fast, too frightened. Kid dismounted and went to help Matt up.

"Are you all right?" asked Kid as he hauled her upright.

"Muddy, but fine," replied Matt. She brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, unintentionally leaving a mud streak across the side of her face as proof. "Thanks."

On the trail ahead of them, Heyes gave a sigh of relief to see Kid wave his hand. The former outlaw leader nudged his horse closer to the pines and dismounted. Tethering the horse, Heyes quickly turned to go back for the others. The sky above crackled. A bolt of lightning stabbed the mountainside above where Kid and Matt stood. Another rock, larger than the previous ones, tumbled loose. Kid grabbed Matt and pulled her towards him, out of danger. Kid's horse bolted past them, heading up the trail towards Heyes.

"Catch him!" shouted Kid.

Thankfully, the animal slowed in recognition of the brown eyed man, allowing Heyes to grab the reins. Heyes pulled Kid's horse towards his own. The mastermind tied the horse in the shelter of the trees. Heyes turned back to check on his cousin and Matt. Lightning struck somewhere up on the mountainside again, loosening a torrent of small rocks and pebbles to rain down upon the walking couple. The muddy side of the narrow trail gave way.

"Kid!" shouted Heyes in horror as he watched his cousin and the blonde woman fall.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Rain pelted Heyes in the face as he blinked his eyes. He hurried forward, dreading what he might see when he reached the trail's edge. The remaining trail was solid rock. Heyes knelt down and peered over. A streak of brown mud slithered down the mountainside and disappeared into the trees below. The two humans had a shorter journey. Kid was sprawled across a ledge about six feet below Heyes. He was unconscious. Matt had one arm across his chest holding him tightly. Her face was pale and she stared towards Kid's boots.

"Sssh," warned Matt. "Don't move."

Brown eyes followed her gaze. A rattlesnake, annoyed at being disturbed, was coiled near Kid's leg. The rattle quivered as Heyes slowly reached for his revolver. Bringing the weapon up to aim, Heyes took a steady breath and pulled the trigger.

"I may not be as fast as my partner," said Heyes as the reptile disappeared over the side of the ledge, "but I usually hit what I aim for."

"How fast can you get us out of here?" asked Matt. "I don't know where the snake bit him."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

A short while later, Kid lay on Heyes' blue blanket near the tethered horses. Matt's strong hands efficiently tied off Kid's gray blanket to the pines making a lean-to. Then she knelt beside Heyes. The dark haired partner had already pulled Kid's right boot off. She pulled Kid's left boot off.

"There's a bite mark in the leather," said Matt with a sigh of relief, "but the puncture didn't go through."

"Nothing here," said Heyes. He checked his partner's pants. There were no signs of any additional fang marks on Kid's legs. "It looks like the goose egg on his head is the only thing wrong."

Matt frowned at Kid.

"That's a pretty big lump on his head," said Matt, "but I would think that with all the pushing, pulling and shoving we did to get him up off that ledge, he should be awake by now."

Kid's continued silence worried Heyes as well. Matt pointed to the small white scar at the base of Kid's head just below the lump.

"What happened there?" asked the blonde woman.

"Nothing," responded Heyes quickly, too quickly. He wasn't going to tell Matt about an eight year old named Jed getting shot by raiders long ago in Kansas. "I mean… I don't know. Thaddeus never told me."

"Has he ever been unconscious before?" asked Matt.

"Do you always ask this many questions?" snapped Heyes. He glared at Matt, but she merely reached out a hand and patted him on the sleeve of his jacket.

"Pa was a sheriff," reminded Matt softly. "I learned a little about tending injuries. The longer a person is unconscious, the worse the injury usually."

Heyes took a deep breath and tried to calm his frazzled nerves. The shot resulting in the white scar had left little Jed unconscious for several hours. More recently, a hard crack on the head in a Texas diner had knocked Kid cold for several minutes. Even more recently, Heyes himself had been shot, drifting in and out of consciousness for days before gaining awareness. Heyes shook his shoulders. Kid would be fine too, he had to be.

"We'll just wait until he wakes up," responded Heyes as he sat back on a low rock.

Heyes saw Matt's blue eyes glance around at the wide spot in the trail. It wasn't a good spot to camp, Heyes knew that.

"Joshua," Matt said softly as she stood up, "I'm going to make a travois. If he's not awake by the time I'm done, we should load him up and head back down the pass. That last town had a doctor."

"No," replied Heyes shaking his head. Her words sank in. Matt was willing to give up chasing after Tattersall to help Kid. It was a good plan, but with only two horses, walking and pulling a travois would take at least a day and a half. Heyes had a better plan. "We go up. Poncha Springs is closer and they have a good doctor too."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

The rain stopped while Matt gathered two long branches for the runners and several smaller branches for cross pieces. Kid stirred briefly as Heyes kept his vigil.

"Hey…" rasped the blond man's voice.

"Kid," responded Heyes as he leaned in closer, "I'm right here."

Heyes sighed as Kid's blue eyes closed again. Matt stepped closer and leaned down.

"Here," said Matt. She held out her white lace handkerchief, damp with canteen water, to Heyes. "Try to squeeze some water into his mouth."

Matt continued to assemble the travois. First she lashed the long poles together with short strips of rope, then she used Heyes' small axe to chop the smaller branches down to size for the shorter cross pieces. Finally, after everything was lashed together, the ungainly object was ready. Matt placed a hand on Heyes' shoulder.

"We should go," urged Matt, "and get as far as we can while it's still light."

Kid mumbled something incoherent when Heyes and Matt loaded him onto the travois, but he didn't wake. Heyes gestured to Matt, she mounted Kid's horse with the travois trailing behind carrying Kid. Heyes then mounted his own horse. The blonde woman fixed a questioning gaze on him.

"Just follow the trail up," answered Heyes. "I'll ride behind, I can keep an eye on him better this way."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"We'll make camp here," determined Heyes. "And start again at first light."

Dim rays of sunlight peeked over the western horizon. Unlike the wide spot in the trail where they had stopped after Kid and Matt's fall, this sheltered valley seemed to be a safe haven. Water gurgled from a nearby spring. Trees stood in a wide semi-circle blocking the wind that gusted down the mountainside. Matt swung a long leg over the saddle and dismounted.

"I'll set up camp," replied Matt as she hauled the saddle off Kid's horse.

"I'll help," said Heyes as he dismounted.

"No. You take care of Thaddeus," insisted Matt.

Matt tended to the horses, while Heyes settled his partner comfortably on the ground. Kid hadn't made a sound since they had loaded him on the travois. Matt started a fire and soon had a pot of coffee brewing. Heyes tried to get some more water in his injured partner's mouth. The dark haired former outlaw certainly wasn't expecting any more trouble, so the sound of a pistol being cocked came as an unwelcome surprise.

"Raise your hands," hissed a low voice. "Both of you."

A gun barrel pressed against the base of Heyes' skull. He slowly brought both hands upward. Peeking out of the corner of his eye, Heyes saw Matt seated on the far side of the fire raise her hands too.

"Jake," said Matt angrily. "What are you doing?"

"Matilda, darlin'," greeted Jake Tattersall. "I heard a shot a while ago, then a horse I recognized bolted past me. Knowing what a stubborn woman you are…"

The man's voice paused and Heyes assessed him. The familiar manner in which he spoke to Matt was worrisome, it didn't sound like an escaped prisoner speaking to a sheriff's daughter.

"You grabbed the horse and circled back," deduced Heyes.

The dark haired murderer from Texas might have had a similar description to Heyes on paper, but in reality, the man had bushy eyebrows, a flattened nose that may have seen the business end of a fist, and a small smile that twisted up in an unpleasant manner when he looked at Heyes.

"Yes," replied Tattersall. The murderer focused his stare briefly on Heyes, glanced at Kid, and then returned to settle on Matt, as if she was the most dangerous of the three. "The horse made me wonder if you had come after me."

Heyes didn't want the man to know that they were indeed trailing him. Heyes tried to bluff with the only information he had, Matt's story, and a little bit of the truth.

"Mrs. Markham is travelling to meet a relative," began Heyes. "My partner was injured, and we're on our way to a doctor's in Poncha Springs."

Tattersall burst out laughing, but the gun pointed at Heyes skull never wavered.

"Mrs. Markham? A relative?" questioned Tattersall. He reached down to Heyes' holster and pulled out the revolver. Then he tossed it to one side. "Is that what she told you?"

Heyes glanced at Matt. The apologetic look on Matt's face told Heyes that Tattersall was telling the truth. Whoever Matt was, she wasn't Mrs. Markham.

"Put your hands together," ordered Tattersall. At Heyes questioning look he dangled a pair of handcuffs. "Sheriff Meyer doesn't need these anymore, I thought they'd look good on you."

"They're really not my style," objected Heyes, but Tattersall snapped the bracelets shut on Heyes' wrists.

"Matilda," chided Tattersall as he walked towards her, "did you not tell your new found friends who ye really are?"

Matt scrambled backwards, away from the fire.

"My name is Matt," insisted the tall blonde woman. Her blue eyed gaze radiated hatred. "I don't like being called Matilda."

Tattersall sidestepped his way closer to her. The armed man reached down and grabbed Matt by her hair.

"You seemed to like it when we were first wed, you seemed to like a lot of things then," hissed Tattersall. The awful man turned her to face Heyes. "Allow me to introduce my darlin' wife, Matilda Markham Meyer Tattersall."

"You don't have to hurt her," seethed Heyes.

Heyes' shock may have shown on his face, but Matt and Tattersall didn't pay him any attention. Heyes looked to where his revolver lay beneath the bushes. The former outlaw leader began to inch his way backwards towards the weapon.

"You aren't the man I married!" exclaimed Matt. She jerked back, out of Tattersall's hands, and scrambled back towards the fireside. One hand reached for the simmering coffee pot. "You said you were an inspector for the railway."

"Railway inspector was a good cover," said Tattersall with a shrug of his shoulders. "Dalhart was the perfect set up for me. Married to the daughter of the town sheriff, I had a ready-made hideout whenever I needed one."

Matt flung the coffee pot at her husband. Tattersall neatly sidestepped the impromptu weapon.

"If only you didn't have that nasty hobby of reading Wanted Posters," hissed Tattersall. A quick glance at Heyes, and he added, "Don't move or I'll have to shoot you."

Heyes thought Tattersall was probably going to shoot all of them. He continued towards his revolver.

"You killed that man in Nevada!" accused Matt. The blonde woman scrambled backwards again, this time towards her saddle.

"You really shouldn't have told your Pa that," replied Tattersall in a low menacing voice. "I don't like being arrested."

"And you shouldn't have killed Pa," responded Matt as she pulled out the ancient Colt.

"Aw now Matilda, what have you got there?" chuckled Tattersall.

"Justice," replied Matt as she pulled the trigger.

The flash of fire emanating from multiple chambers on the weapon caused Matt to jerk the weapon. The shot went wild spooking a lark bunting out of the pine tree behind Tattersall. Matt dropped the gun, shaking her singed fingers. Tattersall strode forward and backhanded her. Matt fell to the ground as Heyes hurriedly reached for his gun, but with both hands cuffed tightly in front of him, it was hard to get a good grip on the weapon, too many fingers were in the way.

"Stop!" ordered Heyes.

For a moment, Heyes had the situation under control, then the unthinkable happened. Heyes fumbled the revolver. Tattersall turned towards Heyes. A wicked smile gleamed upon his face.

"Now is that anyway to hold a gun?" asked Tattersall.

The murderer's hand started towards the pistol tied down at his hip. A shot rang out. Tattersall's holster flew across the campsite. Heyes turned his eyes towards his partner. Kid sat up, leaning on one arm, looking as if he would be ill at any minute, but Kid's revolver was pointed steady at Tattersall.

"That ain't no way to treat a lady," said Kid, "and my partner can hold his gun any way he wants while I'm around."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"You picked the lock?" asked Matt a short while later.

"Yeah," said Heyes, he gestured towards the now bound and gagged Tattersall, "it will be safer to get him to Poncha Springs that way."

Matt knelt down in front of Kid and held a newly made cup of coffee towards him.

"How are you feeling?" asked the blonde softly.

"Confused," admitted Kid. "How did we get here?"

"You've been unconscious for the better part of the afternoon, slacking," answered Heyes with a relieved chuckle. "We couldn't just leave you on the side of the mountain. We had to pick you up and carry you."

"Any other questions," asked the blue eyed woman.

"Matt, who is Matilda Markham?" asked Kid. "And why did you say you were a widow? Why not just tell the truth?"

"Matilda Markham is my grandmother's name," answered Matt. She bowed her head. "I'm sorry about all the lies. I'm not a very good liar. I just didn't think anyone would help me if they knew the truth."

"Why did you think that?" demanded Kid.

"I planned to make myself a widow," said Matt with a grim look on her face.

"But you ain't thinkin' that now, right?" asked Kid quickly.

"No, not if he doesn't try anything between here and Poncha Springs," agreed Matt. Heyes raised his eyebrows at her comment, he'd heard something like that before. He almost choked on her next words. "Now I plan on making myself a divorcee."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"We telegraphed Sheriff Coltrane. He will meet you when the stage arrives," said Kid.

Heyes leaned back against the wall of the Ponchas Spring stage depot as he watched his partner and their former employer. He still didn't quite trust the woman. Matt was no longer wearing her familiar black attire. The tall, blonde woman wore the pink dress with the white collar that she had worn in Raton. Little white gloves covered up her large capable hands. A white crocheted shawl covered her wavy blonde hair and draped across her shoulders.

"Thank you," smiled Matt, "for everything you've done."

Heyes watched as the slim woman stepped close to Kid. She leaned against him. Hugged him tightly and whispered something in his ear. Blue eyes opened wide in surprise, but Matt stepped away quickly. She turned to Heyes. The brown eyed man wasn't quite prepared for the tight hug she gave him.

"Mrs. Tattersall," began Heyes.

Matt stopped him with a finger to his lips.

"My name is Matt," reminded the tall blonde woman.

"I think we've also established your married name is Tattersall," replied the brown eyed man.

"Think of it as an alias," suggested Matt. "One I plan on getting rid of as soon as I get back to Texas."

"You think it's that easy?" asked Heyes.

"No, but I know a good lawyer," replied Matt.

She held on to his shoulders for another moment, then Matt leaned in close to whisper in Heyes' ear.

"Goodbye Mr. Heyes," whispered Matt. Brown eyes opened wide in surprise. "Take good care of your partner."

Heyes and Kid both watched as the stage drove out of town. Heyes turned to face Kid. The brown haired Kansan placed his hands on his hips and glared at his cousin.

"Do you want to tell me how she knew my name?" demanded Heyes. "What else did you tell her?"

"Me?" protested Kid. "I didn't tell her anything."

"You had to have told her something."

"Heyes," replied Kid with a soft chuckle. "Do you remember me telling you once that you talk a lot when you have a head injury?"

"Yeah," answered Heyes.

"You talk even more when I have a head injury," said Kid.

Oh. Yeah. Right. Well sometimes a man needed to talk. But not now. Right now, they needed to ride.

"Kid," said Heyes, "let's go to Denver."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

In western Pennsylvania, a plump woman, with auburn hair streaked with strands of gray and white, read the newspaper article again. Her green eyes crinkled up with delight as she rocked back and forth.

"I knew it!" she exclaimed in satisfaction. A broad dimpled smile spread across her face. The Irish woman added, "You should have given me this paper two weeks ago! Those boys aren't murderers."

In the front room, a squeal of laughter was heard. Little Mary Moira ran past the doorway followed by one of her older cousins. A third child toddled afterwards in an attempt to catch up. Eileen leaned forward and placed a hand on the older woman's arm.

"Mama," began Eileen, "Henry and I've been talking…"

The larger hand of her tall blond husband joined hers.

"Aunt Katie, we think…," began Henry hesitantly. He didn't want to hurt the woman who had been a second mother to him, but finding Jed and Han was important too. Henry took a deep breath and then blurted out, "We're moving to Wyoming."

The rocker stilled. Katie looked through the open door of her bedroom. Her oldest son Caleb scooped up the toddler and seated the child in a high legged chair at the table. Mary Moira and the older children were clamoring around. Coming out of the kitchen, her daughter-in-law carried a large white bowl with a basketweave design loaded with potatoes. Behind Caleb's wife, Katie's younger son Joseph carried a platter with a roast goose. The sweet laughter of Joseph's wife sounded from somewhere in the crowded room, although Katie couldn't see her newest daughter-in-law.

"If we're closer," added Eileen in a hopeful tone, "maybe we can find them."

"Or at least, we can be there, and maybe help," added Henry with a sigh, "when the law finds them."

Katie blinked back the salty substance threatening to overflow her eyes. Her boys and their families would be fine. Her brother's son, her sister's son…

"Wonderful idea," replied Aunt Katie. "When do we go?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Two tired partners rode into Denver. They found the house on Fourteenth Street easily enough. The health notice that had been on the door the last time they were there was long gone. Heyes knocked on the door again. The window above him raised up. A familiar squeal, "Boys!" was followed by the sound of the window slamming back down. Footsteps sounded on stairs from inside the house. It was a moment before the door was flung open and a hazel eyed brunette wrapped her arms impulsively around the slender dark haired man crushing her voluminous skirt between them.

"I'm so glad you and Jed got here in time!" whispered Clem into his ear.

"We're glad to see you too," greeted Heyes. He breathed in the faint scent of vanilla as he happily responded to her hug with both arms. "We've missed the last two Thanksgiving's Clem, didn't want to miss another one if we could help it."

"It just means so much to me that you're both here this year," replied Clem as she stepped back from his warm embrace. "I don't think I could stand it if you weren't."

"Huh?" asked Heyes.

It was nice to be missed, but Clem wasn't acting like her usual self. What was going on? At his puzzled expression, Clem placed her hands on her hips. Her voice changed tone, sounding slightly petulant.

"You did get my message, didn't you?"

"What message Clem?" asked Kid as he dismounted.

Clem smiled up at the blond as he removed his brown hat. Looking directly at him for the first time, her smile froze upon her face. The tiny hazel eyed woman took a step backwards and gasped. Her right hand clutched at her bosom, while her left hand pointed at Kid's hairy upper lip. She didn't answer his question, instead asking one of her own.

"What is that on your face?" demanded Clem.

"A moustache," answered Kid. He stroked the growth above his lip and when Clem started to open her mouth, he added, "and no, I ain't shaving it off just yet."

"Hmmph," replied Clem. She smoothed the crumples from her skirt with both hands. "I'm just grateful you're both here. I need all the moral support I can get."

Moral support? From the two of them? The partner's exchanged a surprised glance.

"Clem," said Heyes. Dark brown eyes looked at the tiny woman speculatively. "What's wrong?"

"Father," sniffed Clem with a little frown, "has a lady friend. We're having dinner at her home with her son and his family, but don't worry. You both are invited too."

Heyes hadn't thought about the fact that Clem was living with Mr. Hale. He hadn't seen Clem's father since the man came to audit the books at Valparaiso. And if Clem's father wanted his daughter to attend Thanksgiving dinner with his lady friend, that was understandable. Disappointing too. Heyes' shoulders fell in dismay.

"Clem, I'm sorry," apologized Heyes. Slender fingers gestured towards his partner. "We don't want to intrude on your family…"

"Hmmph!" snorted Clem. "You're not intruding! Friends are the family you get to choose for yourself!"

Heyes opened his mouth to object, but Clem glared fiercely at him.

"Besides, I need your help carrying dishes over to her house," added Clem. "I've baked three different pies, extra biscuits, and a squash casserole…"

Clem grabbed their hands and began to pull the partners into the foyer of the two story home.

"Clem," Heyes tried again, "we really shouldn't…"

"You're coming to dinner," insisted Clem forcefully. "Thanksgiving 1881 is going to be wonderful! Just wonderful!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x


	9. In and Out of Trouble Again

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same story verse as Kid Plans and South By Southeast, but should also stand alone.

In and Out of Trouble Again

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Jed cleans up well," chuckled Clem.

Heyes glanced out the door. Mr. Hale in his dark suit and Kid in his blue suit walked side by side down the steps to the street. Kid had been entrusted with carrying the biscuits, while Mr. Hale gingerly held the ornate casserole dish.

"Don't know how you managed to get the wrinkles out," said Heyes. He gestured to the brown suit he wore. "I wouldn't have thought either of us would be wearing these suits today."

Clem stepped closer and reached up her tiny hands to straighten his narrow dark brown tie.

"What's wrong with Jed?" asked Clem in a soft voice.

"Nothing's wrong with Kid," responded Heyes. "It's just been awhile since you've seen him."

"Fourteen and a half months," replied Clem with a little sniff, "not that I'm counting."

Standing by the kitchen door, this was Heyes' first opportunity to speak to Clem alone. He opened his mouth, fully intending to blurt out everything, from the deal Lom arranged with the governor, to winter at Clarence's place in Thunder Ridge, to Seth's gold mine, and Danny…. Heyes swallowed. Was now really the right time to tell Clem about all that? Clem stepped back to the kitchen counter.

"Hold this," ordered the diminutive woman.

Clem handed Heyes two apple pies and then placed a pumpkin pie atop a brown cardboard box. Heyes sniffed. A heady aroma of vanilla and cinnamon overpowered the scent of apples and pumpkin.

"What's in the box?" asked Heyes hopefully. He juggled the pies and held the door open for the pretty brunette. The former outlaw hadn't been so worried about dropping something since the last time he'd handled nitro. "Is it…"

"Something special," replied Clem with a secretive smile as she stepped outside. "For dessert. Later."

Heyes followed Clem down to the street. The slender man again started to tell about the amnesty, figuring that wouldn't be too upsetting, but Clem spoke first.

"He's walking a little stiff," observed Clem.

"Oh, that's nothing," replied Heyes, "he's lots better now. You should have seen him try to stand the first day after the mudslide..."

"What? What mudslide? What happened to him?"

Clem shot questions at Heyes as they walked after Kid and Mr. Hale.

"Clem, will you just listen…?" coaxed Heyes, but the barrage of questions continued non-stop.

"When?" Where? "What do you mean? What happened? Can't you boys keep out of trouble?"

Clem was probably the only person in Colorado, make that the whole country, thought Heyes that could outtalk him. Her rapid fire questions continued as they walked down the road. Heyes tried again.

"Clem!"

"Sssh!" Clem hissed. Ahead of them, Kid and Mr. Hale stood on the porch of a large home waiting for them. A woman held the door open. A smile forced its way upon Clem's face. "We're here. Be nice and try not to say anything that will get you boys in trouble."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Joshua," directed Mr. Hale's lady friend from her place at the head of the table, "you may sit beside my dear Horatio."

Heyes seated himself at the center of the long narrow table between Clem's father and her eldest grandson, a boy of about eight. Clem sat on the woman's other side facing her father. Kid took the chair opposite Heyes. A younger grandson sat beside Kid, followed by yet another child that bounced up and down in the chair despite his mother's best efforts to control him. The father of these rambunctious young children stood at the foot of the table with a large carving knife.

"I hope everyone likes ham," added the lady of the house.

Heyes noted a pair of blue eyes widen in surprise. Kid tried not to let his disappointment show. Heyes plastered a polite smile on his own face.

"Ma'am we appreciate you inviting us to dinner with you and your fine family…"

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"No thank you," replied Kid. "I just don't have any more room…"

"Take some beets," hissed the boy beside Kid. The child pushed the dish closer to the muscular blond man. "And then pass 'em."

The heavy serving dish laden with bright red pickled beets had been passed around the table at least once already, along with a white bowl full of steamed Brussel sprouts. Both dishes still appeared nearly full. Kid's empty plate showed traces of ham, boiled potatoes, Clem's squash casserole and crumbs from at least three of her biscuits, not that Heyes had been counting. The dark haired man just happened to reach for the biscuits at the same time as his partner. Kid got the last biscuit.

"You have to eat your vegetables," advised the child seated by Heyes side. "Or you won't get any dessert."

Kid frowned. Heyes knew Kid hated pickled beets. The younger Kansan had bravely tried the unfamiliar Brussel sprouts earlier. The expression in his eyes as Kid tasted the squishy round green vegetable told Heyes it wouldn't happen again.

"Thaddeus doesn't have to eat beets," replied Heyes as he came to his partners rescue.

"What about you?" demanded the child.

"Me neither," replied Heyes with a smirk. "But we still get dessert."

Dinner ended soon afterwards when the pickled beets found their way to the floor. Heyes wasn't entirely sure which kid knocked the dish over. Parents and rambunctious children departed upstairs for washing up and bedtime stories.

"Thaddeus, would you help me with the dishes?" asked Clem.

Heyes watched his partner follow Clem into the back recesses of the house carrying a load of dirty plates. He was sure Clem was going to question Kid on the events of the last several months. The sounds of running water mingled with laughter soon echoed down the hallway from the back room.

"We should move into the parlor," suggested the lady of the house.

Heyes was trying so hard to listen to what was happening in the kitchen that he almost missed Mr. Hale's question.

"Would you like a glass of brandy?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Heyes swallowed a sip of the amber liquid and leaned back in his chair trying to relax, but it was hard. Mr. Hale's lady friend simpered in a straight back chair near Clem's father. The pointed nosed woman kept asking questions. Heyes' nimble mind would normally have fabricated a story to keep the woman at bay, but she was Mr. Hale's friend. Clem's warning stayed in his mind. Heyes needed to maintain a semblance of truth.

"What?"

"How long have your known our dear Clementine?" quizzed Mr. Hale's friend.

"Thaddeus and I met Clem…" began Heyes.

"Clementine," corrected the woman in a voice that was just too, too sweet.

Heyes sucked in a deep breath and smiled in the silence that followed the woman's pronouncement. Clem had told him years ago that she preferred the shortened form of her name, but she would let him and Kid call her Clementine as long as they didn't do it too often. Heyes remembered the interchange between Matt and Tattersall, where the murderer insisted on calling the tall blonde Matilda. While Heyes' parents had sometimes called him by his full name, they more frequently used Han. As an adult, the only person who ever had the temerity to call him Hannibal on a regular basis was Big Jim Santana. Dark brown eyes narrowed as Heyes puzzled over this woman's insistence on using Clem's full name.

"We met Clem at school," said Heyes firmly with a small tight smile.

"Hmmph."

Mr. Hale's friend leaned forward and now patted Heyes on the knee. With a calculating look that reminded Heyes of a card sharp, the woman resumed her interrogation. Where are you from? What do you do? Heyes couldn't tell if there was a point to the questions or not, but he responded to the incessant prying in a polite tone. One final personal question brought him up short.

"Are you married Mr. Smith?"

The silver tongue utterly failed.

"Um… uh…," stammered Heyes.

Thankfully his partner returned to the parlor in time to save Heyes from having to make a response.

"Clem baked carrot cake," announced Kid.

He stepped into the room with a serving tray containing a tea pot, cups, saucers, silverware and small plates. Clem followed carrying a cake plate. She set the cake down on the center of the low table in front of the sofa and squeezed in between her father and Heyes.

"Does everybody want a slice?" asked Clem.

"Your prize winning recipe Clem?" asked Heyes.

Clem's hazel eyes met his. A shared memory, years ago at the Fourth of July celebration when Heyes had been newly released from Valparaiso, a fourteen year old girl won the local baking competition with a special carrot cake recipe. It was still Heyes' favorite dessert. A happy smile lit up Clem's face.

"You remembered," said Clem.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Everyone in the parlor, except Mr. Hale's lady friend, had some of the carrot cake. Kid made another foray back to the kitchen. He retrieved one of the apple pies from the woman's son and his family and part of the pumpkin pie. The lady ate pumpkin pie. Kid had a slice of pumpkin, a slice of apple and a big helping of carrot cake. Heyes ate two servings of the dark, moist, carrot cake savoring the taste of vanilla and cinnamon, crunching the walnuts. He finally pushed his empty desert plate away.

"No story tonight," sighed Clem. With a pointed glance at her Father's lady friend, she added, "We usually read after dinner."

"You're in luck," declared Mr. Hale's lady friend, "I've got _The Atlantic Monthly_. You'll love the latest installment of Mr. Henry James story…"

Clem began shaking her head as the woman continued talking.

"_The Portrait of a Lady _isn't the type of story you and Kid usually read," said Clem in an undertone that only Heyes could hear.

"Clem," reminded Heyes as he leaned closer, "You know I read just about anything and everything."

"You haven't read this!"

"The story couldn't be worse than _Daring Dudley and the Tsarina of the Train_," replied Heyes with a smirk. He was never going to let Clem forget she gave him that dreadful novel. "A romance between the brave sheriff and that horrible Natahalie?"

"She wasn't that bad," objected Clem in a low whisper. "She loved Dudley."

"Right," snorted Heyes in a tone of disbelief. "This story can't be any worse."

"Don't say I didn't try and warn you," hissed Clem.

Mr. Hale's lady friend read in a monotone. As the woman droned on, Heyes found it hard to keep his eyes open. Kid wasn't the first to start snoring. The sonorous snorts emanating from Mr. Hale's chest did nothing to dissuade the woman from continuing on to the installment's end. Finally, the literary ordeal was over. Heyes reached out and tapped Kid on the shoulder.

"Wake up," chuckled Heyes. "It's time to escort Clem and her father back to their home."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

The return walk through the darkened Denver streets was quieter. No longer burdened with foodstuffs the foursome set off beneath the clear night sky to make their way back towards the Hale home. Heyes slowed his steps until Kid and Mr. Hale were out of earshot before he asked Clem a question.

"Did Kid tell you about Danny?" asked Heyes.

The smile dropped from Clem's face. She frowned at the dark haired Kansan.

"How could you let him get into so much trouble?! He could have been killed!" hissed Clem. "Why didn't you stop them before it went that far?"

"I tried," protested Heyes. "I told Kid he shouldn't tangle with Danny."

Clem's glare didn't change.

"I told Danny to stay away from Kid," added Heyes.

The look Clem gave Heyes then made him want to sink through the earth all the way to China. Her hazel eyed gaze confirmed his own thoughts. The silver tongue hadn't helped. If anything, Heyes had made matters worse.

"Telling a man not to do something doesn't usually work," snapped Clem. She looked away from him, then sighed. "Heyes, for a genius, sometimes you do really stupid things."

They walked in silence until Fourteenth Street came into view. Clem linked her arm through his. Heyes felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. He crooked his elbow just a bit drawing her closer. Then he placed his other hand on top of hers as they continued to walk.

"When he told me about the mudslide, he mentioned a woman named Matt," continued Clem, "but when I asked him about her, he changed the subject."

That wasn't surprising, thought Heyes. Kid wouldn't speak ill of a lady, not even if the lady nearly got him killed.

"What can you tell me about this Matt person?" asked Clem.

"Uh… she's tall," answered Heyes. Under Clem's continued stare, he added, "Really tall."

"What else?" demanded Clem.

"She likes outlaws," responded Heyes, "and has a hobby of reading wanted posters. "

"You say that like it's a bad thing," chuckled Clem.

"It is!" hissed Heyes in exasperation. He ran a hand through his dark hair. At her look, he added, "Not for you I mean, but for her. She knows who we are."

"So do I," replied Clem with a smirk.

"You I trust!" exclaimed Heyes.

Clem tilted her head and looked at Heyes.

"You don't trust Matt?" asked Clem in a puzzled tone. "Why?"

Why indeed, thought Heyes. Kid had found the tall blonde woman easy to talk to, and felt sympathetic to a woman who had lost both her parents, but Heyes remembered the woman's determination to shoot Tattersall. Had Kid been conscious to see her face when Matt pulled the trigger on the old Colt? There was something about the abrupt about face Matt did when Kid asked her if she still wanted Tattersall dead that bothered Heyes.

"She's a liar and she's dangerous!"

"Now who does that remind me of Mr. Smith?" asked Clem with a teasing smile.

"With any luck, we'll never see her again," sighed Heyes.

At least Heyes hoped they would never meet up with Matt again. Clem removed her arm from his elbow as they neared her home. Heyes stopped talking as he and Clem approached the house. Mr. Hale waited on the front steps. Heyes and Kid bade their goodbyes.

"We're leaving tomorrow morning," reminded Heyes.

"Stop by before you leave," urged Clem. "I'll wrap up some leftovers for you to take."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

The partners were dressed in riding gear once more, holiday finery folded tightly within their bedrolls. By midday, they were well north of Denver. They stopped on a crest overlooking a sloping, rock strewn mountainside. Heyes began to unwrap the brown paper package Clem had given them earlier when they stopped to say goodbye.

"Turkey sandwiches," exclaimed Kid in delight. "I knew she cooked something more than squash casserole and desserts!"

"Biscuits," murmured Heyes. "Don't forget the biscuits, you ate enough of them."

Kid started eating while Heyes continued unwinding the brown paper. Beneath the sandwiches lay another package, small, rectangular and hard. A familiar slim brown volume appeared as he pulled off the last of the paper, _Tales _by Edgar A. Poe. The note on the inside of the wrapping paper read, _Something to take the taste of the Portrait out of your mouth, but be sure to bring my book back. Don't lose it like you did Daring Dudley and the Tsarina of the Train! _A soft smile lit up his face as Heyes began reading. All too soon though it was time to ride again.

"Are you sure you want to winter over with good old Uncle Clarence again?" asked Heyes as he climbed back into his saddle. "We could go back to Clarendon. Sheriff Coltrane said we would be welcome."

"That was before I sent the telegram to Johnson," reminded Kid. "We might not be welcome in Texas now."

Heyes tilted his black hat back on his head and smiled. Kid was right. Clarendon was one more town that Joshua Smith and Thaddeus Jones needed to stay away from.

"So what did Clem say when you told her about the amnesty?"

"Me?" When would I have had time to tell her? Her Pa was sitting right there the whole time!"

"You didn't tell her?!" exclaimed Heyes, "You were in the kitchen together for at least a half hour!"

"We had other things to talk about," Kid protested. "Clem kept asking questions… wanted to know everything we'd been doing and everybody we met… and… and…"

Heyes began to laugh. Kid's description sounded very much like his own interrogation by Clem.

"The next time we see Clem," concluded Kid, "the first word we say is amnesty!"

"Well now Kid," replied Heyes with a chuckle, "that depends upon if she lets us get a word in edgewise."

Kid didn't reply. The blond twisted in his saddle, looking back on the trail where they had just been. A dust cloud was visible in the distance.

"That looks like a posse," said Kid. "I knew the man at the livery in the last town was looking at us funny."

"Yeah Kid," agreed Heyes, "The posse looks like a big one. At least a dozen or more riders."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Several months later, in early spring, two men galloped southward out of the small town of Buckton.

"Be glad the wheels of justice turn slow Kid," called Heyes.

"What?" shouted Kid.

"If Belle and the girls had gone to trial while we were snowed in with Clarence at Thunder Ridge," replied Heyes, "you wouldn't have been able to testify on her behalf."

"It ain't justice that those girls and their Ma ever went to trial in the first place!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x

On a dusky evening in Cheyenne Wyoming, a burly outlaw with a big moustache glared at his little partner.

"What do you mean you didn't get the gunpowder?" seethed Wheat.

The smaller man gestured towards the blue and gray storefront across the street. Through the window panes, a tall blond man could be seen drawing the shades. The store's name, _Finest Firearms, _was written on a wooden sign above the center window. On the bottom of the glass, six inch letters read _Purveyors of Colt Manufacturing Products. _The little writing below that, _H. Curry, Gunsmith _wasn't visible from where the two outlaws stood.

"I just couldn't Wheat," sighed Kyle. "He looks so much like Kid."

"Nah," argued Wheat. "He's nothin' like Kid. That man's got to be a least ten years older and he's got straight hair."

"Wheat," huffed Kyle. "It would be like we was robbin' family."

Wheat eyed his partner. Kyle Murtry was generally one of the most easy-going persons a body could ever hope to meet. But from the stubborn expression on Kyle's face, Wheat knew they weren't getting any gunpowder from this store tonight.

"Fine," agreed Wheat. "Let's see if the Smith and Wesson dealer on Main Street is still open."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Kid dipped a cloth in the watering hole and pressed the cool, damp cloth against the back of his neck. Above him the early morning sun beat down on his head. His brown hat hung from the pommel of his saddle as the horse beside him drank from the shallow water. Heyes dismounted and moved to join his partner. Kid now pressed the cloth against the right side of his jaw.

"Stokely sure packs a hard punch," grumbled Kid.

"You didn't have to put your face in the way of his fist," teased Heyes.

Kid snorted in disgust and dipped the cloth back into the cool water.

"Have we been here before?" asked Kid. "Or is everything starting to look the same because we've been riding too much?"

Heyes looked around the watering hole. The spindly little tree growing between a broken tree trunk did seem familiar. The former outlaw frowned in concentration as his horse lowered its head towards the water. Then, a broad smile spread across his face, dimples deepened as he nodded in recognition.

"We stopped here last fall," answered Heyes, "on our way to Raton."

Kid turned his head and looked to the southeast.

"When we rode with Matt," agreed Kid. "I didn't realize we were that close."

That close to Texas wondered Heyes, or that close to Matt? Either one was too close in his opinion.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Heyes groaned as he climbed down from the stage. He placed his hands on his hips and arched his back. It might be his imagination, but the stage from Apache Springs seemed harder than most.

"Thaddeus," greeted Heyes as his partner finally poked his head out of the stage door. "What would you say if I offered to buy you a drink?"

"I'd say yes," replied the muscular blond with a big grin. "And I might even offer to buy you a drink."

The bartender poured two shots of a dark amber liquid. Heyes picked up the little glass and raised it towards his lips when he heard a familiar voice.

"Well if it ain't Mr. Smith and Mr. Jones," greeted a brightly clad woman.

Heyes turned to face the new arrival.

"Lurene," acknowledged Heyes as he pushed himself away from the bar and stood up straight.

Beside him, Kid spluttered and choked as the sip of whisky went down the wrong way. The saloon hostess put one hand on her hip and looked at the two men.

"You know boys," said Lurene, "I have to thank you."

"Thank us?" coughed Curry as he turned towards the woman.

"For what?" asked Heyes smoothly.

"For sending me that telegram," replied Lurene as she approached the two men. "Changed my life."

The two Kansans exchanged a surprised glance.

"Best news I ever got," continued Lurene.

"Best news?" asked Kid. "I was worried the news would make you feel sad."

"No, don't get me wrong. Finding out Danny was dead made me feel real bad," continued Lurene in a matter of fact tone. She lowered her voice. "I was really in the dumps for…" Lurene gave a deep sigh, "almost a whole half hour."

"Ma'am," began Kid.

Lurene held up one hand stopping him from continuing.

"You know, even if Danny wasn't dead," mused Lurene. Both hands moved to her hips. "I don't think that man was ever planning on coming back."

"Now Lurene…," began Heyes.

"But I moved on," interrupted Lurene. "Glad I didn't waste years waiting for a man that wasn't ever coming back. Sam and I got this place now."

She held out her hands to gesture to the entire bar.

"Isn't it wonderful!

Heyes and Kid looked around the saloon. It wasn't much different than the one in which they had first met Lurene, but they weren't going to be so rude as to argue with a lady. Both men nodded in agreement.

"And I owe it all to you," said Lurene. "Can I buy you boys a drink?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"You know Clem's gonna ask why we rode straight down to New Mexico last spring without stopping in Denver to say hello," said Kid.

"I think Clem will be glad that we didn't bring a posse to her front door," said Heyes.

Clem's father opened the door at Heyes knock.

"May I help you?" asked the stout older man looking a little puzzled.

"Good day Mr. Hale," replied Heyes. He gestured to Kid and then to himself. "We're here to see Clem."

"You boys must not have received her letter," began Mr. Hale.

"Letter?" asked Heyes.

"Clem is moving to Albuquerque," replied Mr. Hale. "If you hurry, you might catch her before the train leaves."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"There," said Kid as he pointed towards the end of the train station.

A tiny woman dressed primly in blue and white stood beside a steamer trunk with a small carpet bag placed on top. Just beyond Clem, the train conductor updated a chalk board with the date August 22 and time 4:20 pm. Then the barrel chested man announced the first call for passenger boarding. The brunette picked up the carpet bag and stepped forward.

"Clem!" yelled Kid. The muscular blond began to make his way across the crowded platform. "Excuse me… excuse me."

"Clem!" called Heyes as he followed after Kid.

Clem turned towards the sound of their voices. Her mouth opened in a wide smile.

"Boys!" greeted the hazel eyed brunette.

Kid was the first to reach her. She jumped up into his arms and grasped his face with each of her small hands. Kid responded to her kiss thoroughly. A man down by the freight cars gave a wolf whistle.

"Save some for me!" exclaimed Heyes.

Kid set Clem back down on her feet and she turned to greet him. Heyes lifted Clem up. Lips pressed firmly against his. Heyes breathed in the scent of vanilla extract. The conductor called _All aboard! _Clem arched back. Hazel eyes were mere inches from dark brown eyes. He could count the freckles on her nose.

"You should set me down now," whispered Clem.

Heyes nodded, and reluctantly set her feet back on the floor.

"Why are you leaving Denver Clem?" asked Heyes. "The town has been your home for over ten years…"

An incoherent babble of words came out of Clem's mouth. Independence, freedom, privacy, grown woman, a mind of my own, and ended with an indignant _I'm not a little child_, and left Heyes blinking in confusion. The conductor shouted _Last call!_

"Where are you going Clem?" asked Kid as he hugged her once more. "Do you have a mailing address?"

"You can reach me via my dear friend Georgette Sinclair, in Albuquerque New Mexico," replied the diminutive woman.

The train whistle blew. Kid scooped Clem up and deposited her on the landing in front of the door to the passenger compartment. She cupped her hand to her mouth and shouted.

"Do you have my book?" called Clem. At Heyes guilty look, she exclaimed. "Don't tell me you lost another one!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x

On a trail approaching Laramie, the partners ran into a familiar figure. The lawman was headed south.

"Howdy boys," greeted Sheriff Coltrane.

The lawman tilted his white hat in greeting and reined in his horse. Kid nodded and pulled back on the reins of his gelding. Heyes' mare did a jittery little side step before stopping between the two men.

"Sheriff," replied Heyes with a broad smile hiding his unease, "what an unexpected pleasure. What are you doing in Wyoming?"

"Took a prisoner up to the territorial prison," replied Coltrane. He must have seen something in their expression, because he added, "Man was a real bad 'un."

The steely eyed man looked at them for a moment, then smiled.

"Glad to see you boys again," said Coltrane. "I wanted to thank you both for helping Mattie out. She didn't take it kindly when I wouldn't let her ride with the posse."

Heyes remembered sending the sheriff a telegraph from Poncha Springs last fall. He had thought the lawman would want to know that the murderer his posse had lost was brought to jail. To Heyes' surprise, the response he received was more concerned with getting the tall blonde woman back to Texas than the prisoner.

"Our pleasure," responded Kid in a low voice.

"Don't hold all that misbehaving against her," continued Coltrane.

"Misbehaving?" asked Heyes. His voice sounded tight and low to his own ears. "Is that what you call chasing a man across three states intent on shooting him?"

"No, but that ain't like her," answered Coltrane with a frown. The hands on the reins tightened a bit. "Mattie's a good girl really."

"Hah," exclaimed Heyes. "And how do you know this?"

"Mattie's family," said the lawman. There was a pause. Bushy gray eyebrows narrowed over even grayer eyes. "She just went a little wild after her Ma died. And then when Anselm… well… I guess she thought it was her fault and she wanted to make it right."

Coltrane looked down at the hooves of the horses. The murdered man, Matt's Pa Anselm Meyer, had been Coltrane's friend. Heyes remembered Clem telling him once that friends are the family you get to choose yourself. Was that what Coltrane meant? Or something more? After a moment, Coltrane raised his eyes again and gazed directly at Kid.

"Leroy Johnson sure appreciated that telegram you sent," said the tall Texan. "He said if you ever come back to Clarendon, he wants to shake your hand."

"I don't reckon we're going to be in Texas anytime soon," replied the tall blond man.

Kid shifted uncomfortably in his saddle and glanced away. Coltrane glanced at Heyes. The brown eyed man had his back teeth clamped together tightly forcing a smile to stay on his face. Coltrane's eyes lit up as he realized the source of Kid's discomfort.

"Sheriff in Matherville said Bilson or whatever his name was provoked the gunfight," reminded Coltrane. "Ain't nobody saying otherwise."

The sheriff nudged his horse forward. Coltrane just had one more thing to say.

"You boys are welcome in Clarendon anytime."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"It ain't quite the same as being snowed in on Thunder Ridge," grumbled Kid. "Hit me."

"Well, I'll admit that this Clarence isn't the same as your _Uncle _Clarence," chuckled Heyes as he dealt the Kid another card. "And Thunder Ridge does have a few more people now…"

"A lot more if you count all the children," reminded Kid. The blue eyed man cleared his throat and repeated, "Hit me."

"I always count kids," smirked Heyes. Nimble fingers turned up another card for his partner.

"Twenty-two," groaned Kid.

"We just need to be happy with what we've got," reminded Heyes. "Take a page from your good old _Uncle_ Clarence."

"Huh?" asked Kid.

Heyes shuffled the cards, thinking about their old friend. The one-legged former outlaw was one of the happiest men Heyes knew.

"He's always laughing and smiling," reminded Heyes. "He thinks that tumbledown shack he calls home is wonderful. Always says he's sitting on a gold mine."

Kid nodded and smiled in agreement as he remembered their old friend. Heyes swung his hand in a sweeping gesture that encompassed the spacious cabin and its sleeping occupants.

"Think how lucky we are," said Heyes. "Safe, warm, no one chasing us, plenty of food…"

"We're together, and if we're lucky, we'll have venison for Thanksgiving this year," coughed Kid.

The dark haired Kansan leaned in close to Kid and tapped the deck of cards

"And if we're even luckier," replied Heyes, "maybe they'll get bored and want to play poker."

"Anything's better than blackjack."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"You know Heyes," said Kid as the two men turned away from the Chauncey Beauregard memorial hospital wing, "while we're out here, there is one more thing I'd like to see."

"What's that?"

The winding narrow trail led down from the wooded ridge to the sandy beach below.

"Kid," called Heyes, "you've seen it! What more do you want?"

"I want to touch it," insisted the blue eyed man.

Heyes rolled his dark brown eyes and sighed. The strategist pulled out his biggest weapon.

"We won't make it back to Silky's for dinner tonight," reminded Heyes.

Kid didn't even reply. Heyes looked at the trees and the little trickling stream that followed the trail down towards the ocean. They could build a fire and camp out, go back to Silky's tomorrow. Ahead of him, Kid rode his horse straight across the beach into the edge of the blue water. Kid stopped. He still hadn't moved by the time Heyes joined him. Small waves rolled into shore. Larger waves, topped with white, broke upon a distant sandbar.

"It's bigger than the Gulf of Mexico," said Kid. His blue eyes didn't move from the even bluer horizon.

"Yeah Kid," replied Heyes, "it's the Pacific ocean. It's the biggest ocean in the world."

Kid turned his horse and rode back to the base of the trail. He dismounted and tethered the animal in a shady spot near the freshwater stream. Then the muscular blond man sat down on the sand and began to pull off his boots.

"Kid," exclaimed Heyes, "what are you doing?"

"I'm going swimming," replied his partner. Blue eyes looked up at Heyes. "You coming?"

Heyes grumbled as he dismounted and tethered his horse, but he took off his boots and began unbuttoning his shirt. Both men were soon down to their longjohns. Kid stood up and waited for Heyes. The slender dark haired man stepped towards the beach. Then Heyes glanced over his shoulder. With a smirk, Heyes shouted.

"Race you!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"What are you doing?" demanded Heyes another time. "Another few minutes and you would have told that nun our whole life story!"

"Do you have any idea how hard it is to lie to a nun?" demanded Kid.

"You didn't have to tell her we were orphans!

"I told her we ran away _together_ when we were both _fifteen_," reminded Kid. "We didn't leave together, and we aren't the same age."

"Yeah," agreed Heyes, his voice softened, "and we weren't running."

"You might not have been running," replied Kid, "but I wanted out of there as fast as I could get."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Heyes swallowed and closed his eyes in relief as the Marshall left the Denver hotel room. The blood pounding in his veins made it hard to hear Kid's comment about a closet, but he nodded in agreement anyway.

"Clem," said Heyes when he finally got his breathing under control, "No more schemes, nothing illegal."

"Not ever again," added Kid firmly.

It seemed odd to be telling the most honest person he and Kid knew that she couldn't run a con. Heyes never would have thought those words would be coming out of his mouth.

"I was desperate," said Clem. Her hazel eyes glistened. "Dragging you boys into this wasn't the best decision I've ever made, but at the time it seemed like the only thing to do."

"We'll always be there to help you," said Kid, he ducked his head and looked half proud and half embarrassed. "But nothing illegal, we're trying to go straight."

"Clem, we've been meaning to tell you," added Heyes at Clem's shocked look, "Lom made a deal with the territorial governor. If Kid and I can keep out of trouble…"

"The governor might grant us amnesty," finished Kid. He lips curled up in a little smile, "Someday."

"Really? That's wonderful!" replied Clem with a bright smile. Then her hazel eyes narrowed. "Is that why you chased after me last August? You wanted to know if I was related to William Hale!"

"Now Clem, you know us better than that," began Heyes.

The tiny woman placed her hands on her hips and her bottom lip poked out in a frown.

"It is! I know it is," insisted Clem. "You thought I could get the governor to be more lenient with you."

"Clem we didn't even know Governor Hoyt had been replaced by Hale then," responded Heyes.

"Your amnesty deal was with Governor Hoyt?" asked Clem.

"First with Hoyt," answered Kid.

"Now we've got the same deal with Hale," added Heyes.

Hazel eyes stared accusingly from one Kansan to the other.

"How long have you been keeping this a secret?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Uncle Mac was real grateful to us for saving him from that murder charge," said Kid.

"Yeah," agreed Heyes, "he even let us keep some of the money we earned."

"You're poker playing skills must be getting rusty Heyes," chuckled Kid as they continued northwards across Texas.

They camped that night under a clear August sky. Stars twinkled brightly and Heyes tried to name the constellations for Kid.

"I can't remember them," sighed the brown haired Kansan. "Pa had a book, but…"

"Your Pa had a lot of books," remembered Kid trying to distract Heyes from the memory of a burning homestead.

"Schoolteacher's usually do," replied Heyes. "I just wish I could remember their names. Each of the constellations has a story…"

"Heyes, don't worry about it," soothed Kid. The muscular blond waved a hand. "We can find out their names and the stories about them some other time. Tonight, all we have to do is watch."

The next morning they continued north, northwest. The last time they had travelled this route had been by stage a little over three years ago. When they came to the cross roads, they stopped and looked at each other.

"Clarendon's closest," said Kid. "It would be nice to sleep in a hotel tonight."

"The law knows us in Clarendon," objected Heyes.

"Right Heyes," agreed Kid. He turned his horse down the road to Clarendon. "The law know us there and said we were welcome. Wouldn't you rather stop there than some place where the law don't know us or worse yet knows us and don't want us?"

Brown eyes blinked. Heyes turned his horse to trail after his partner.

"Kid," called Heyes, "what's the real reason you want to go there?"

The muscular blond glanced over his shoulder. Sunlight glinted of the silver and turquoise trim on his brown hat.

"Heyes, you didn't try Eula Mae's peach cobbler," said Kid, "or you wouldn't be asking that."

It was early evening when the two former outlaws rode into Clarendon. They stopped at the livery first and settled their horses. Then two hungry men checked in at the hotel.

"We'll just drop off our things, then go over to the diner for supper," said Heyes as he accepted the room key.

The little bell above the door tinkled as Heyes pushed it open. Inside, Claude stood beside a table with a pad in hand writing down an order. Heyes recognized the Monroe family at the back corner table. A steely eyed gray haired man waved from a side table.

"Sheriff Coltrane," greeted Heyes as he approached the table.

"Mr. Smith, Mr. Jones," responded Coltrane. He gestured towards the empty seats across from his chair. "Would you care to join me for supper?"

"Don't mind if we do," replied Kid.

Heyes took one seat, while Kid took the other. Kid looked around eagerly.

"Claude's the only one working right now," chuckled the sheriff, "so you will have to be patient about getting your order taken."

"Eula Mae's not working here?" asked Heyes.

"She should be here shortly," began Coltrane. The gray eyes looked up as the bells on the front door jingled again. "Oh there she is."

A fair haired woman entered carrying a squirming bundle of pink and white, cotton and lace. Eula Mae and her baby were followed by another familiar face. The tall blonde woman's face lit up with a smile. Chairs scraped across the wooden floor as the men stood up to greet the women.

"Papa," said Eula Mae, thrusting the infant towards the sheriff, "would you hold Lucinda? That way I can get these folks supper."

"Congratulations seem to be in order," remarked Heyes with a big grin.

Somehow in all the commotion of welcomes and admiring a new baby, Heyes found himself seated at the opposite end of the table from Coltrane. Kid was beside the sheriff now. Kid appeared to be fascinated by the little child held within the sheriff's arms. Matt was seated between Heyes and Kid. Heyes leaned forward over the edge of the table and spoke in a low voice.

"So what name are you using now?" asked Heyes.

"I'm Matt," reminded the tall woman.

"I meant your last name," hissed Heyes.

"Like some other people I know, I don't use my real last name," frowned Matt. The tall woman leaned forward and whispered in Heyes' ear, "you wouldn't believe what the law says a woman has to do to get a divorce!"

"Thought you'd be a widow by now," said Heyes in surprise. "Didn't the law hang Tattersall?"

"No, more's the pity," huffed Matt. "He got soft judge and life in prison."

Eula Mae arrived with plates full of food, so both Heyes and Matt sat back to enjoy the dinner and the conversation turned to more general topics. A short while later, the dark haired Kansan paid his bill and stood up, ready to return to the hotel room.

"Huh?"

Kid looked up at Heyes.

"Alright Joshua," agreed Kid. "You go ahead on, I'll be up after awhile."

"Well don't talk too much Thaddeus," replied Heyes. "You know you need your beauty sleep."

Wan moonlight streamed through the big front window of the hotel room when Heyes heard the door swing open. Kid quietly walked in.

"What took so long?" asked Heyes.

"Matt and I got to talkin'," replied Kid with a yawn. "Then the baby started fussing, so we offered to wash the dishes for Eula Mae and Claude. They were real happy to take Lucinda home early."

"Well get some sleep, morning will be here soon and then we need to ride out of here," replied Heyes before he rolled over.

"It wouldn't hurt to rest up a day or two, would it?" asked Kid softly.

"What?" Heyes rolled back over and stared at his partner.

"It's just... Matt said the church is having an all you can eat fried chicken supper Saturday night," explained Kid.

"You want to do this?"

"It would be a nice change from riding," replied Kid. He didn't say more than that, but Heyes recognized the expression on Kid's face. This was something Kid wanted, maybe even more than seeing the Pacific ocean.

"Will there be music and dancing?" asked Heyes trying for a light tone.

"Music," answered Kid with a nod, "but I don't know about dancing."

Saturday night, Heyes watched the crowd in the social hall. The fiddler was good. The guitar player was better. Most of the adults had stood up for a square dance or two, but now the musicians were playing something soft and slow. The center dance floor was crowded. Heyes glanced to the side. He wasn't sure if what Kid and Matt were doing was really dancing, it looked more like a hug swaying back and forth. He could just barely make out Kid's voice.

"Now left, two, three," instructed Kid, "Ow!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Heyes rolled his cousin over. Dark brown eyes stared at the dusty blond. Was Kid even breathing?

"Kid," whispered Heyes. He brushed dark brown hair back from his eyes and swallowed, the taste of hot dry sand upon his tongue. "Kid, are you alright?"

There was no answer. Heyes reached a slender hand forward and felt Kid's head. Behind Kid's left ear, just above the tiny white scar, a swollen lump was visible. Heyes' fingertips brushed against something hard. A rock. Heyes stared at the misshapen lump of off-white stone. He grabbed the rock and hurled it as far as he could. Then he looked back at his partner.

"Kid."

It seemed like forever before Heyes saw his cousin's Adam's apple bob up and down. Blue eyes blinked and closed, then blinked open once more. This time Kid focused on Heyes.

"What did you do?" rasped Kid. "Jump off the train?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"I would never have thought of Clem falling for the Alcalde," grumbled Heyes as they rode through the desert.

"She didn't," said Kid as he passed into the shade provided by two tall rocks. "I mean, maybe a little bit infatuation, but mainly I think she was just acting out to prove to herself that someone wanted her."

"Now why would she do a thing like that Kid?" asked Heyes.

"You hurt her feelings."

"What?" asked Heyes. "You know I'd never hurt Clem!"

"Not on purpose," agreed Kid, "but she was all set to be Mrs. Smith and you turned her into Mrs. Jones."

Heyes stopped the horse he was riding and turned to glare at his partner.

"Nah Kid, you're wrong."

"Use your brains Heyes," sighed Kid. "It don't take a genius to figure that out."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"You're bleeding again," said Kid. "You shouldn't have tried to help dig Marty's grave."

Kid pressed the cloth in his hand against Heyes's temple. Brown eyes winced.

"Ow! Watch it with that thing," hissed Heyes.

"Sorry," replied Kid. The he pressed the cloth against Heyes' head again eliciting another hiss. "We were lucky today. Don't think we've had that many guns firing at us since the last train job we pulled."

Heyes remembered. The last train job. The one where a little old lady told Kid about amnesty. Kid had told Heyes that they needed to get out of the outlaw business. Was today a sign that they needed to get out of the trying for amnesty business?

"Kid, when we get to town," said Heyes, "we should send Lom a telegram."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Heyes stared at the return telegram from Lom. The message was simple. _Come to Porterville. We need to talk._

-x-x-x-x-x-x


	10. Trouble Comes To Thunder Ridge

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same story verse as Kid Plans and South By Southeast, but should also stand alone.

Trouble Comes To Thunder Ridge

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"What did you want to talk about Lom?" asked Heyes.

Lom stepped through the front door into the sheriff's office. The dark haired Kansan smirked as Lom's surprised glance went from Heyes to Kid and then back to Heyes. Lom frowned.

"First," replied Lom, "get your boots off my desk and get out of my chair."

"Now Lom," chided Kid. The tall blond slid his foot down from the side of the wall that he'd been leaning on and stood up straight. Hooking his thumbs into his gun belt, Kid asked, "Is that any way to greet an old friend?"

"I am your friend," maintained Lom, "which is why I asked you boys to come to Porterville."

"Last time you sent us a telegram like that," reminded Heyes as he narrowed his dark brown eyes, "you relayed the governor's complaints."

"We got some complaints of our own for the governor," added Kid.

"Now boys, the governor don't know about this meeting," asserted Lom as he moved closer to the big oak desk.

"Oh?" questioned Heyes. The dark haired former outlaw uncrossed his ankles, set his feet on the floor and pushed back the chair, as he moved to stand. "So what is this about?"

"Clarence Jones is dead," answered Lom. At their shocked looks, the mustached man added, "according to Lute, Clarence died in his sleep last week."

Kid and Heyes recognized the name. A skinny little man who liked to tend his flower garden, Luther Morrison was the undertaker at Thunder Ridge.

"Appreciate your letting us know about Clarence," nodded Heyes as he moved away from Lom's desk. "I understand you wouldn't want to send that kind of information..."

"I didn't telegraph you boys to ride all the way to Porterville just to tell you of Clarence's passing," interrupted Lom.

"What else is there?" asked Kid in a low voice.

"Clarence's last will and testament," replied Lom.

"What?" asked both Curry and Heyes at the same time.

"Kid, Clarence deeded the house and land at Thunder Ridge to his nephew Thaddeus Jones," explained Lom. With a sidelong glance at Heyes, Lom continued, "Clarence willed his Bible to Joshua Smith."

"Clarence made a will?" asked Kid in surprise. "I didn't know he could read and write."

"I didn't know he owned a Bible," blurted out Heyes in shock.

"Clarence had Miss Porter's attorney write up all the papers a couple years back," informed Lom. "It's all legal. If you pay the probate fees Thaddeus Jones will have a valid legal identity."

"Huh?" asked Kid.

"A valid legal identity?" repeated Heyes sharply. "What's that mean Lom?"

"It means if you pay twelve dollars in probate, Thaddeus Jones becomes a registered property owner and taxpayer in the territory of Wyoming," replied Lom. "You're not strangers in the town of Thunder Ridge. Everyone already knows you as Thaddeus Jones and Joshua Smith."

"What about the amnesty deal?" demanded Heyes.

"It's been over three years since Governor Hoyt first said he'd think about it," replied their friend. "Governor Hale keeps coming up with reasons for delay, and I can understand his concerns, but…"

"We're still wanted," stated Heyes flatly.

"I think it's time to hedge your bets Heyes," advised Lom.

Eyebrows went up above dark brown eyes to hear the sheriff talk like a gambling man. Heyes calculated the odds on different scenarios while Lom talked.

"Keep trying for the amnesty, you'll still have to do some jobs for the governor," urged Trevors, "but take this deal, pay the probate fees, maintain the identity of Thaddeus Jones and Joshua Smith as law abiding, tax paying citizens."

"You're saying the place at Thunder Ridge will be a hideout, like Devil's Hole," suggested Heyes in a cautious tone.

"Better than Devil's Hole," answered Lom. "It's a legal township, and the town is too small to have a sheriff. If Thunder Ridge needs law, they either send to Porterville or send for a federal marshal."

"Do we have twelve dollars?" asked Kid as he reached into his pocket.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"It's even smaller than Cargill," grumbled Heyes.

"That didn't bother you when we wintered here in the past," reminded Kid.

"There isn't even a saloon!" exclaimed Heyes. "At least Cargill had a saloon."

The brown eyed former outlaw surveyed the small valley that held the even smaller township of Thunder Ridge. Clarence's ramshackle old house was halfway up the opposite mountainside almost level with their position on the peak of Thunder pass. Mrs. Henderson's boarding house was easily the biggest building in the town below. The second biggest building, if you included the attached stable, was Uriah Cole's blacksmith shop, which was also a sometimes livery and occasional stage depot. The smallest building was a tiny square framed wooden structure owned by the undertaker Luther Morrison.

"Cargill also had a jail," reminded Kid. The muscular blond pointed at the new wooden building beside the boarding house. "And for all we know, Mrs. Henderson may have added a saloon."

The proprietor of the only boarding house in the tiny town of Thunder Ridge was a short, round older woman. While Kid and Heyes stayed with Clarence at his mountainside abode during good weather, in winter the three former outlaws would reside in Mrs. Henderson's roomy establishment. The motherly woman, a widow thrice over, always said Thaddeus Jones reminded her of her first husband with his curly blond hair. Three children ran through the tiny fenced yard as Kid spoke. Kid nudged his horse down the trail.

"Not likely," chuckled Heyes as he followed his partner. "I'd guess that Mrs. Henderson's son and his family finally moved out of the boarding house."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

The sun was slowly setting, painting the sky with shades of amber, rose and gold. Heyes stood on the front porch. Looking at the town from this angle, he could see all the houses and he had a clear view of the pass. From here, they could see anyone approaching.

"If there was only an escape route," muttered Heyes. He heard a whistling sound and turned to look back around the corner of the house. His partner had wandered off exploring quite a while ago, Heyes called hopefully, "Kid, is that you?"

The tall blond strode into view swinging a lantern. Kid was grinning from ear to ear.

"Joshua," said Kid in a mock serious tone that belied the grin upon his face, "I've asked you before to call me Thaddeus. I'm a grown man now, not a little boy."

Heyes rolled his eyes and snorted in exasperation.

"Where have you been, _Thaddeus_?" asked Heyes placing a little extra emphasis on the assumed name. "You've been gone for hours."

Kid's grin grew even broader. He held up the lantern.

"Do you remember how Uncle Clarence always said he was sitting on a gold mind?" asked Kid.

"Yeah," replied Heyes. His eyes narrowed. Neither of them had been inside a mine since Seth's gold mine in New Mexico. "Don't tell me you went into the mine and struck gold."

"Nope," answered Kid, "something better."

"Something better than gold?"

"Once you're inside, the main tunnel turns at a forty-five degree angle about five or six yards in," grinned Kid, "then goes another eight hundred or so yards and opens on the other side of the ridge…"

Heyes blinked. He didn't know which was more surprising, the idea that Kid would go wandering off for a half mile jaunt through a mine tunnel or that the tunnel spanned both sides of the narrow ridge. A broad dimpled grin spread across his face.

"So we've got a back door," interjected Heyes.

"If we ever need one," concluded Kid.

After a supper of rabbit stew and cornbread, Heyes pulled the large black Bible off the mantle and opened it up. He still couldn't believe that Clarence had left the book to him, but as he began to peruse the familiar pages, Heyes came upon a section of handwritten names. The family tree showed Clarence, son of Jonas and Elspeth. Brother George, married Eudora, one son Thaddeus. Heyes' lips curled up in a gentle smile as he continued to read the Jones family tree. He even found a branch showing Elspeth's sister married a man named Smith.

"Heyes, whatcha laughing at?" asked Kid.

Brown eyes looked up at Kid with a mischievous twinkle. Heyes held up the Good Book. Clarence had done everything he could to help them.

"Thaddeus," replied Heyes, "Good old Uncle Clarence put the family tree in here. Did you know that Joshua Smith is your distant cousin?"

"Not distant enough," grumbled Kid as he rolled over. "Now be quiet and lemme sleep."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Mary Moira," said Henry, as he pushed the pram towards the Cheyenne photography studio, "pouting is not necessary."

"Why do I have to smile?" asked the little girl as she walked along dragging her feet.

"We want to have a picture taken, for Grammy's Christmas present," reminded the child's mother, "and to send back to our family in Pennsylvania."

"And you have to smile, because no one but you and your Mama have that beautiful dimpled smile," added her father. The man gestured towards the sleeping infant, "Poor little Owen got stuck with my smile."

"Mama and I aren't the only ones to have dimples," objected Mary Moira. The strawberry blonde pointed towards a dark haired man on the other side of the street. "He's got the same dimples."

Henry looked across the street. His breath caught in his chest. A man that looked very much like Uncle Arthur, but with the Curry dimples inherited from Aunt Moira, stood outside a bookshop.

"Eileen," breathed Henry, "take the children. That's got to be… I…"

"Go," urged his wife.

Henry limped across the street towards the dark haired man, but Han, surely that had to be Han, strode off.

"Sir," shouted Henry. The gunsmith couldn't endanger his cousin by using the name Hannibal Heyes. "Sir!"

Han didn't appear to hear Henry. By the time the tall blond man reached the corner, Hannibal Heyes was gone. Henry exhaled in frustration. Two years of discreet inquiries had led to nothing. Henry closed his eyes. Today, a chance encounter in the streets of Cheyenne showed him his cousin was still alive. Maybe his brother was alive too. But he needed to get a plan together. There had to be a better way to search for Han and Jed. But right now, Henry had to go back to his wife and children.

"Smile for the camera," urged the photographer a short while later.

Mary Moira obliged, and for good measure, she stuck her tongue through the gaping hole left by her missing front teeth.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Lemme see your hands," said Heyes once he got the fire started.

The partners were about fifteen miles east of Ashford. They stopped riding while it was still daylight and set up camp in a secluded glade. A narrow stream tumbled over rocks and puddled in a small pool before continuing on through the woods. In the afternoon light, Heyes could see bruises on his partner that he hadn't seen in the dark cellar before dawn.

"I'm fine," objected Kid, but his blue eyes winced as he reached into his saddlebag. The muscular blond rolled his shoulders again. "Just gonna wash up a bit and get changed into some clean clothes."

The coffee was soon ready, but Kid was still down by the rocky pool. Heyes debated for a moment, then decided coffee was more important than modesty. He poured Kid a cup and walked towards his cousin. Heyes sucked in a deep breath as he neared. Kid's boots sprawled beside the pebbled stream. The brown hat rested atop the boots. A dirty white shirt, blue jeans and longjohns were piled together in a jumbled heap nearby. Kid sat with his long legs soaking in the cool water, his eyes were closed and he held a wet bandana against the base of his skull.

"You think this is fine?" demanded Heyes.

The dark haired former outlaw knelt beside Kid contemplating the new crimes he would commit if he ever saw Willard Riley or Amy Martin again. Kid had told him Amy Martin was in on the kidnap plot! To think he had been so foolish as to feel sorry for that woman! And he had felt bad for reading poetry to her, leading her on! Heyes held the coffee towards his partner. Blue eyes blinked open, Kid wordlessly accepted the steaming drink. He took first one sip, and then another, until he finished the entire cup.

"Just a few scrapes and bruises," responded Kid as he passed back the empty container.

"More than a few," objected Heyes. Long, tapered fingers gestured towards the red marks on Kid's legs. "What happened there?"

"Dunno exactly," admitted Kid. He motioned towards the fading green bruises along his ribs. "Riley bashed me over the head at Miss Martin's house. When I came to, I was in the cellar. I figure they musta tied me over the back of a horse, or a mule maybe, to get me there."

Dark brown eyes smoldered with rage as Heyes remembered the long ride from the Miss Martin's to the deserted building with its stone cellar. Both Heyes and Kid had taken hard knocks before, but slinging a person on the back of a horse like a sack of feed just went to show how little value Kid's captor's had placed on his life. Even in Wickenburg, Plummer's men had the decency to load them in a wagon before hauling them out of town. Heyes might have fumed a while longer, but Kid's next question though brought the dark haired Kansan back to the here and now.

"What's for supper?" asked Kid.

After a meal of beans and biscuits, Kid stretched out on his blanket roll. A clean soft white Henley covered his bruised chest, dark brown trousers hid the rope burns on his legs. Kid was still rolling his shoulders, unkinking stiff, sore muscles, even in his sleep. The only other visible signs of Kid's captivity were the raw red welts on his wrists. Heyes watched his cousin's uneasy rest and took another long deep breath. He looked up at the stars twinkling in the vast moonless sky. Dark brown eyes glistened with moisture as Heyes whispered, _Thank you Lord!_

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"You seemed restless last night Kid," commented Heyes as the two Kansans saddled their horses next morning. "Bad dreams?"

Kid nodded, then reached to tighten the cinch on his black horse. Heyes hesitated a minute, Kid didn't have bad dreams often, but if this ordeal had stirred up old memories better left buried, Heyes wanted to help.

"About the root cellar?" asked Heyes.

For a moment, Kid stood motionless. His curly hair caught the early morning sunlight as he turned to look at Heyes. The compassionate blue eyes regarded Heyes before Kid answered.

"No," replied Kid. "I dreamt about Danny last night."

"Danny?!" exclaimed Heyes. The genius spluttered on, "You dream about Danny?"

Kid put his foot in the stirrup and pulled himself up into the saddle.

"Yeah, sometimes," admitted Kid. "Usually Danny just grins and says something like see you soon. Once, and only once mind you, he said he was sorry."

"And last night?" asked Heyes as he climbed into his saddle.

"Danny seemed sort of disappointed," answered Kid, "said he was looking forward to having some company."

"Now Kid," demanded Heyes, "you just put Danny right out of your mind! You don't need to be having nightmares about that murderer!"

Kid shook his head, then urged his horse forward.

"Now what kind of man would I be if I didn't have bad dreams every once in a while about a man I killed?" asked Kid.

Heyes swallowed the rest of his tirade. His cousin was the finest kind of man in Heyes's opinion. If Kid had nightmares, Heyes would be there to help. And if Kid lost his way…

"Hey!" called Heyes. He gestured north, northwest. "Thunder Ridge is that way."

Kid pointed due east.

"Clarendon's that way," said Kid. "I'd like some peach cobbler before we go back to Thunder Ridge."

"Other places make peach cobbler," grumbled Heyes as he nudged his horse to follow Kid. Heyes didn't think it was just peach cobbler that had Kid wanting to go to Texas. "And going by Clarendon is a bit out of the way!"

"Heyes," reminded Kid, "if Uncle Mac can get a stage from Tombstone to Denver to go by way of Texas, I think we can manage to go from Ashford to Thunder Ridge by way of Texas."

"Uncle Mac paid the driver good money for that detour!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x

The bookseller opened the front door and beckoned to the elderly lady knitting on the bench outside.

"Mrs. Smythe," urged the kindly merchant, "the weather's getting chilly. Would you like to sit inside?"

Katie Smythe looked up from her needles and yarn. A wide dimpled smile spread across her wrinkled face. Eileen combed periodicals searching for news about Curry and Heyes while tending to little Mary Moira and baby Owen. Henry wrote letters trying to discretely track down their missing kinsmen while also running a busy gunshop. The determined older woman wanted to do her part as well. Katie staked out the book store, the last known whereabouts of her nephew Hannibal Heyes. If the boy was anything like his father, he'd be back.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Governor Hale's dead?" repeated Kid in a questioning tone.

"Died last January," answered Lom. "And then there was Morgan, but don't worry about him, he's already been replaced by Francis Warren."

"I knew it was a long winter but seriously?" asked Heyes in an incredulous tone, "Three governors?"

Heyes watched as the lawman shrugged his shoulders. The muddy streets outside his office were barely passable in the early spring.

"We rode over from Thunder Ridge to get some supplies, not a new governor," continued Heyes. "What does this do to our amnesty deal?"

"Don't worry," soothed Lom. "Warren is agreeable to the same amnesty deal…"

"But what if we ain't agreeable Lom," protested Kid. "It's been five years!"

"The banks and railroads are still offering a reward," reminded Lom. Then he lowered his voice. "I hear that life on Thunder Ridge is pretty good."

Heyes and Kid glanced at each other. Winters on Thunder Ridge were good. They knew everyone in the small town. Ever since Kid had taken apart, cleaned and restored Uriah Cole's old Schofield, he had been getting occasional work restoring guns. Heyes kept his mind busy learning new things like Morse code, and teaching Mrs. Henderson's oldest grandchildren to read. And while the old mine might be mostly played out, the partners usually scraped enough gold dust for taxes and necessary supplies every winter. Summers… that was something else though.

"What does Governor Warren want us to do?" asked Heyes with a small smile.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"A body needs friends Heyes," said Kid.

"Yeah, but I think Governor Zulick might appreciate it if we stayed distant friends," replied Heyes.

Kid turned his horse east.

"Where are you going?" asked Heyes. He pointed northwards, "Thunder Ridge is that way."

"Clarendon," answered Kid, "I want to ask Matt a question."

Heyes gulped. Was Kid thinking about…

"I want to know if our friend C. Meyer Zulick is any relation to her family," continued Kid.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Let me get this straight," demanded Kid, "Warren was gonna sign the amnesty, but got replaced by Baxter. Baxter said he'd sign the amnesty after one little favor, but he's not governor anymore. Morgan was back as governor for about ten minutes…"

"More like six weeks Kid," interjected Lom.

"And now we've got another new governor?" continued Kid without stopping.

"Yeah, name of Moonlight," replied Lom.

"And we're still wanted?" asked Heyes.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Mr. Curry sir, would you like to sign this?" asked the young clerk.

The teenage assistant held the delivery packaging slip out towards his employer. The box containing empty cartridge casings, shot, wads, a bottle of gun cleaning oil, three different sizes of hammers, two different sized metal files, and the all-important reloading press sat on a table ready for the gunsmith's inspection. Henry smiled at the earnest young man and reviewed contents against the invoice.

"Good job Clovis," praised Henry. "You go ahead and sign. Then take it to the post office for delivery to Thaddeus Jones."

As Henry limped back to his desk, he tried to remember why the name Thaddeus Jones sounded familiar, but he knew he'd never heard of Thunder Ridge before. It must be a real small, out of the way place Henry mused.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"I don't like splitting up," fretted Heyes as the dark haired former outlaw boarded the afternoon train from Porterville.

"Since Wilkins retired, Lom needs the help," reminded Kid.

"Yeah, but…"

"Here, would you get these items for me?" Kid pressed a list into Heyes' hand as the whistle blew. "The place is called Finest Firearms, ask for Clovis."

Heyes glanced at the address Kid had scrawled on his supply list.

"Yeah, sure, it's near the bookstore," remarked Heyes. Dark brown eyes gazed at his partner. He remembered what happened the last time they split up. The genius cautioned, "I'll be back tomorrow evening, don't get into any trouble while I'm gone."

-x-x-x-x-x-x


	11. Terrible Trouble

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same story verse as Kid Plans and South By Southeast, but should also stand alone.

Terrible Trouble

-x-x-x-x-x-x

The next morning, Heyes strode from his hotel down the streets of Cheyenne looking for Finest Firearms. The man in buff colored pants, a black shirt and dark jacket walked right past the book store and didn't even notice the elderly woman hurry outside. The newspaper boy on the corner caught his attention first.

"Extra! Extra! Extra!" shouted the young lad, "Shootout in Thunder Ridge!..."

Dark brown eyes blinked. Surely Heyes hadn't heard that correctly.

"Gimme a copy," ordered Heyes as he pressed a dime into the newsboy's hand.

Heyes gasped as he read the headline. Three inch tall type read SHOOTOUT IN THUNDER RIDGE, the line below read KID CURRY KILLED, in still smaller type below, the article began _Porterville deputy injured in shootout with notorious gunslinger…_ Heyes knew that both of those statements couldn't be true. But which one? The slender man dropped the paper and started running towards the train station.

"Sir," called the elderly woman as she picked up the paper and tried to follow the fleeing man, "you've dropped your…"

A glance at the headline left Katie Smythe gasping too. The plump woman put a hand to her chest. The dark haired man turned the corner and disappeared from sight. Katie staggered forward still clutching the newspaper. Turning down the corner street, she made her way towards the gunsmith's shop. A little bell tinkled over the doorway as she entered.

"Henry," cried Aunt Katie.

Henry Curry moved as fast as his damaged leg would permit. He caught his mother-in-law as she collapsed.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

The ten o'clock morning freight train wasn't meant for passengers, but Heyes was desperate. He didn't care about the railroad's rules. The train was headed northwards. Heyes boosted himself into a car just as the engineer pulled the whistle. The engine huffed and chugged out of the station. The dark haired outlaw leaned back against the freight car's wall with a sigh. Heyes slowly slid down the side of the wall until he sat upon the floor. There, he wrapped his arms around his knees and placed his head down. The journey to Porterville would take at least six hours. Heyes tried very hard to not think about what was really important, but visualizing bank floor plans didn't help at all.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Heyes galloped into Uriah Cole's stable yard just as the sun was setting. No one in Porterville had been able to tell him anything about the shootout beyond the fact that Sheriff Trevors was in Thunder Ridge.

"Joshua," greeted Uriah. The big burly blacksmith took the reins of Heyes' rented horse.

"Where's my partner?" asked Heyes as he dismounted.

Uriah's eyes followed the turn of Heyes' head. The dark haired man's worried gaze fixed upon the small wooden building nearby. The faded gray sign could still be read despite the peeling paint, Luther Morrison Esq. Undertaker.

"Aww no Joshua," soothed Uriah, the big man pointed towards the big boarding house. "Thaddeus is at Mrs. Henderson's."

A beefy hand thumped Heyes on the shoulder in an attempt at comfort. Heyes staggered for a moment, but whether from the blacksmith's solace or the sudden overwhelming sense of relief he felt or just exhaustion from riding so long, so hard, was anybody's guess.

"Would you rub down the mare for me?" asked Heyes. "And…"

"I'll tend to the horse, you go check on your partner," nodded the blacksmith. "I'm sure Thaddeus will be fine when he wakes up."

"Thaddeus is sleeping?"

"Doc Beauregard used a different word," said Uriah looking downcast for a moment, then the big man smiled a gap toothed grin, and repeated, "I'm sure Thaddeus will be fine when he wakes up."

"Doc Beauregard?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Heyes took his black hat off as Mrs. Henderson ushered him into the large guest room at the end of the hall. Lom sat in the chair by the bedside. A chubby round man in a gray suit with thinning wisps of even grayer hair sprouting haphazardly from his scalp stood with his back to the door. The man didn't turn when Heyes entered.

"Joshua," greeted Lom as he moved to stand.

Heyes stepped closer. He could now see Kid. The muscular blond lay sprawled on the big double bed, partially covered by a pale blue blanket. A narrow bandage circled Kid's right bicep. Several bandages tightly crisscrossed a trail around his torso. Kid's left leg extended from beneath the quilt. The doctor peeled back the bandage on Kid's thigh and smiled in satisfaction.

"How… how is he?" stammered Heyes. Kid was so still. Heyes could barely make out the gentle rise and fall of Kid's chest.

The little man turned around. Heyes stared at the stranger, he hadn't met Mrs. Henderson's newest boarder before. Keen eyes stared back. Beauregard looked Heyes up and down.

"Who are you?" demanded the doctor. "Are you family?"

"Yeah," answered Heyes. "And who are you?"

"I'm a doctor! Neville Beauregard," sniffed Beauregard. "Now be quiet so I can check his pulse."

Heyes didn't say anything as he watched the man. Beauregard resumed his hold on Kid's wrist. After a short while the man nodded, then pulled out a stethoscope. Beauregard listened to Kid's chest and nodded again. Finally, the man used his thumbs to push back Kid's eyelids. Heyes waited, but this time the man didn't nod, he sighed and turned back towards Heyes and Lom.

"No change since yesterday," said the doctor with a small shake of his head.

"Yesterday!" exclaimed Heyes. His dark brown eyes sought out Lom for confirmation.

The sheriff nodded while the doctor started packing up his bag.

"I'll come back tomorrow, but there's really nothing more I can do," said Beauregard. "He will either wake up on his own…"

"Or what?" asked Heyes. "What do we need to do to get him to wake up?"

"Nothing. Either he wakes up on his own," said the doctor with sorrowful eyes, "or he doesn't."

For a moment, Heyes couldn't breathe. Then he felt an unreasoning surge of anger. This couldn't be happening! He slammed the door behind the departing doctor and rounded on Lom.

"Do you want to tell me what happened? I thought you were just going to deliver some papers!"

"We were, it was supposed to be simple," sighed Lom softly. "We had a subpoena for a man to appear in court on suspicions of bank fraud. McIntyre must have seen us coming. The desperado bushwhacked us."

"Desperado? McIntyre?" asked Heyes. The former outlaw recognized the name. "You don't mean Henry P. McIntyre of the Wells Fargo Bank auditing division, do you?"

"Yeah," replied Lom. "How do you know him?"

"Met him in Hanford once," sighed Heyes. He turned to look at his wounded partner. "I didn't think the man was fast enough to get three shots off against Kid."

"That man couldn't get one shot off against Kid in a fair fight," snorted Lom. Gesturing towards Kid's leg, Lom explained. "McIntyre started taking potshots at us when we rode up to the homestead. Kid got hit and I…"

For the first time since arriving at Thunder Ridge, Heyes took a good look at his friend Lom. The sheriff's bloodshot eyes told of a sleepless night. Heyes wasn't the only one worried about his partner.

"It's a wonder Kid stayed on the horse," continued Lom. "He pulled his gun, but that's when McIntyre grazed him in the arm."

"And," prompted Heyes in the silence that followed.

"Kid's aim was a bit off…"

"Understandable, seeing as how he just got shot in the arm," growled Heyes.

"McIntyre's hand was bleeding and he was squalling like a stuck pig," responded Lom. "I was gonna take them both to the doc in Porterville, but Kid said there was a new doc in Thunder Ridge, and it's closer. So we came here."

"But… but… what happened to Kid?" asked Heyes gesturing towards the bandages wrapped around his partner's chest. "How did he get shot in the chest?"

"He didn't," replied Lom. "Kid said he was fine, that he could ride. I bandaged up his arm and his leg as good as I could before we left McIntyre's place."

"Then how…, what…," spluttered Heyes in confusion. He scowled at Lom. "The paper said Kid Curry was killed in a shootout at Thunder Ridge."

"What?" asked Lom. Then the sheriff's face clouded over. "That dang young fella from the paper. He was here. When the three of us rode into town, McIntyre started shouting about Kid Curry, I guess some of the folks listening musta thought he was Curry. Everyone here knows Kid as Thaddeus."

"Wait a minute, are you saying McIntyre is the dead man over at the undertaker's?" asked Heyes.

"Yeah," answered Lom. The lawman sighed. "McIntyre turned really red in the face and just up and died. Doc called it a stroke."

Heyes nodded, understanding how the misidentification happened.

"If Kid didn't get shot in the chest," asked Heyes, "what are all those bandages for?"

"Three cracked ribs," answered Lom. Desolate black eyes looked at Heyes pleading for forgiveness. "I shouldn't have let him ride…"

Heyes rocked back on his heels. Looking at his partner, he barely heard the rest of Lom's confession.

"Kid passed out. He fell off his horse, broke Uriah's fence railing, and one of the posts hit him on the head. He's got an awful goose egg."

"And Beauregard didn't bandage Kid's head?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Lom stopped in once more before leaving to go back to Porterville.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" asked the sheriff.

"Yeah," replied Heyes from his sentinel post in the chair by Kid's bed.

The mastermind had been thinking. If the newspaper in Cheyenne had picked up the story of the shootout from the wire service in Porterville, other papers might also report the story. He had to get in touch with a friend.

"Would you send a telegram to Clem?" asked Heyes.

It was probably the longest telegram Heyes ever wrote, but Lom didn't ask him to shorten anything. _Urgent. Please come to Thunder Ridge. Don't believe everything you read, but please come to Thunder Ridge. Soonest possible._

After Lom left, Heyes settled back in the chair. He watched the gentle rise and fall of Kid's chest. And Heyes whispered words straight from the heart.

"Please wake up Kid, please wake up."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Stage from Porterville's arriving," informed kindly Mrs. Henderson as she poked her head in the doorway. "You go and see if your friend is there, I'll watch Thaddeus."

Heyes hesitated. Doc Beauregard had just left. The medical man had removed the bandage from Kid's arm, and indicated the bandage on Kid's leg could come off tomorrow. But when Heyes asked the doctor about Kid waking up, the man stopped talking. Heyes didn't want to leave Kid. Mrs. Henderson crossed her arms and gave him a pretend frown.

"I'm not taking no for an answer," insisted the motherly older woman. "You need some fresh air."

Heyes walked towards Uriah's. The sometimes weekly stage could be seen coming down the ridge from Thunder Pass. Heyes leaned against the fence railing and watched as the driver reined in the horses. Whoa! Muffled female voices sounded from within the coach. Heyes stepped forward to open the door, but the door was shoved open from within. A tall blonde woman dressed in dark violet stepped out of the stage. Matt glared at Heyes. She stepped forward almost stepping on his toes.

"You were supposed to watch out for him," she hissed. Then Matt turned and stalked off towards the undertakers.

Heyes tried to stop her but a second woman wearing a blue and white travelling outfit stepped down from the stage. The tiny brunette threw her arms around Heyes' neck. Clem wept loudly for public appearance and demanded even more loudly, for all in hearing range, to know the whereabouts of her cousin. But with her lips pressed close to Heyes' ear, Clem whispered, _"Where's Kid? Tell me he's alright!"_

"This way Clem," urged Heyes.

As the dark haired pair hurried side by side towards Mrs. Henderson's boarding house, the door slammed shut at the undertakers. Matt stomped out angrily. The tall blonde crossed the street towards Heyes and stopped directly in front of him. She put her hands on her hips, elbows jutting out at either side and frowned menacingly.

"Where…" began Matt.

"Sssh," hissed Heyes in a low voice.

The slender man slipped his arm into hers as if they were at a social gathering and pulled Matt close.

"Don't blow this," warned Heyes. "Thaddeus Jones and Joshua Smith might want to continue living in this town."

Beside them, Clem put her hands on her hips and glared at the tall blonde woman, then she glared even harder at Heyes.

"Joshua," sniffed Clem as she narrowed her hazel eyes, "who is this woman?"

"Introductions can wait," insisted Heyes. He grabbed both women by the elbows and steered them towards the boarding house. "Both of you, inside."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Mrs. Henderson looked up as Heyes, Clem and Matt entered Kid's room. The older woman looked a little puzzled.

"Joshua," asked Mrs. Henderson, "won't you introduce your friends?"

"Certainly Mrs. Henderson," replied Heyes. With a gesture towards the diminutive brunette on his left, Heyes began, "Allow me to introduce Miss Clementine Hale…"

Clem stepped forward raising her hands on either side of her face.

"I came as quickly as I possibly could," babbled Clem, she fanned herself and wailed, "my poor dear cousin…"

Heyes rolled his eyes at Clem's theatrics, but they got the desired effect. Mrs. Henderson's face softened in concern. Clem moved even closer to Kid, settling herself in the chair that Heyes had recently vacated. On Heyes' right, the tall blonde woman stepped forward and extended her hand.

"Since my fiancé's partner seems to have forgotten my name, allow me to introduce myself," said Matt in a low tone.

"Fiancé?" repeated Clem in surprise. She shot a look at Heyes, but the Kansan shrugged his shoulders. He had no idea what Matt was pretending.

"I'm Matilda Markham," informed Matt as she moved to the side of Kid's bed opposite Clem. Heyes watched as the blonde stroked a long fingered hand down the side of Kid's face. He blinked as a barely perceptible movement seemed to register on Kid's face. Heyes was watching Kid so closely, he almost missed hearing the tall woman add, "Matt to my friends."

"Now that's just wonderful," gushed Mrs. Henderson. Then, the business woman got to practicalities. "Will you ladies be sharing a room? Or need separate rooms?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Fiancé?" squawked Clem in a high pitched voice as the door shut behind Mrs. Henderson. The tiny woman stood up, leaned over Kid's bed and demanded, "Why did you say fiancé?"

"You're already the cousin," reminded Matt softly. She continued to look at Kid, just stroking the side of his face.

"You could have said sister," retorted Clem as she gestured towards the woman's blonde hair.

Heyes stepped closer to Clem and pulled her back.

"Clem, not now," chided Heyes softly, before he turned on Matt. "Matilda Markham? Are you using your grandmother's name as an alias again?"

The former outlaw crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the woman on the other side of Kid. Clem glared at Matt and crossed her arms as well.

"No," replied Matt without moving her gaze from Kid's face. "My divorce was finally granted. I didn't want to go back to using my maiden name. Judge said I could have any last name I wanted, so I picked Gramma's."

"Why are you here?" demanded Heyes.

"I came as soon as I read the news in the paper," answered Matt softly. Then she looked up at Heyes. Her blue eyes drilled into him. "How long has he been like this?"

"Three days," replied Heyes. At the unspoken question in her eyes, he added. "The only movement he makes has been to swallow water."

"And you've been by his side all that time," stated Matt with the certainty of past experience. Clem turned her glare towards Heyes as Matt asked, "Have you had any sleep?

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"No," insisted Clem pushing Heyes into the next bedroom. "You get some rest! We'll both watch Kid."

"But, but…," protested Heyes.

"And I'll watch her!" promised Clem.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Heyes stretched out on the bed for the first time since he'd picked up that awful newspaper. He rolled over on his side facing the wall that adjoined the room where his partner lay.

"Kid," whispered Heyes, "you've got to wake up. We promised Grampa."

Brown eyes closed, and a worried man drifted into an uneasy sleep where he revisited a memory that a devastated boy had long ago locked away.

_Arthur Heyes shouted at the boys to get in the root cellar. Then the Dublin born school teacher picked up his axe and headed towards the main house. Moira followed Han's younger sister Cleo out onto the porch. Han saw his mother hurry Cleo in the direction of his father. The girl looked back once, but then started to run in earnest. The sound of a rifle cracked. Cleo fell in the dusty yard between her mother and father._

_"Cleo!" screamed Han. The thirteen year old started out of the cellar doorway, but Grampa pushed him back._

_"Stay here!" commanded the family patriarch._

_The root cellar door slammed shut. More shots fired, horses squealed in agony. Arthur Heyes' voice could be heard bellowing._

_"Dúnmharfóirí!"_

_Han tried to push the door open despite Jed's efforts to hold him back, but something, or someone, blocked the door. It seemed like a long time until all was silent except for the pained screams of a horse. The door scraped. Grampa, holding a hand against his bloody lower abdomen, stood framed in the opening. Behind him, Han could see the house and barn burning. Bodies lay in the farmyard._

_"Put the horse out of its misery," ordered Grampa._

_Han stared at the devastation, unmoving. It was nine year old Jed who took the pistol from Grampa and walked over to the squealing animal. One more shot blasted and there was silence._

_"Bring Arthur, Moira and Cleo to the root cellar," gasped Grampa. The mortally wounded man leaned against the door frame. "I don't want any critters messing with their bodies while you boys go to town."_

_A big black crow settled on the broken fence post and eyed one of the dead marauders as Grampa spoke._

_"Town?" asked Han._

_"Yes, go tell them what happened here," whispered Grampa as his body slowly slid down the jamb. "Watch out for each other. Try to stay out of trouble, but do whatever you need to survive! Stay alive!"_

"Heyes," called a soft voice. "Heyes. Wake up Heyes."

Heyes bolted straight up and cracked his head against Clem's.

"Ow!" Heyes exclaimed as he rubbed the top of his head. Beside him, Clem rubbed her chin.

"Are you alright?" asked Clem. "You seemed to be having a nightmare."

"Yeah," nodded Heyes. Then he shook his head and ran his hand through his dark hair. "I mean yeah, I had a nightmare."

Heyes gave a small smile to the hazel eyed woman beside him.

"Not quite sure about the alright part," admitted the sensitive man.

"Sometimes," said Clem softly, determinedly looking at the floor, "sometimes it helps to talk about things."

"It's a pretty awful story," said Heyes.

"I've got some awful stories of my own," reminded Clem.

Heyes hesitated. The tiny woman reached out and cupped the side of his face in her palm. Words seemed to flow out of his mouth without his bidding as Heyes told Clem about the day he and Kid put his parents, sister and Grampa inside the root cellar. When Heyes' voice finally trickled to a stop, there was a moment of silence before Clem spoke.

"That's not all though," whispered Clem. "There's something more, isn't there?"

"Yeah," admitted Heyes bleakly. "In tonight's dream, I put Kid in the root cellar too."

"No," said Clem firmly. She straightened up briskly. A determined little chin jutted out. "You just put that right out of your mind. That's not gonna happen! We won't let it!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Jenny Black arrived the next morning. A hung jury long ago had restored her freedom, but Jenny was still trying to rebuild her shattered life. The rancher driving the buckboard wagon hurried to help her down. Heyes heard the kind man offer to come back and take her to the train again whenever she needed a ride. The small blonde woman waved the rancher goodbye and grabbed a slender man as he walked towards the boarding house.

"Jenny!" exclaimed Heyes as he tried to breathe through the tight hug. "What are you doing here?"

"I read the papers," replied Jenny with a shudder as she released him. She turned to look at the undertaker's building. "I came to..."

The blonde woman's voice failed and her chin quivered. In sudden understanding, this time it was Heyes who hugged her.

"Kid's not there," informed Heyes. The dark haired man turned Jenny to face the boarding house. "Remember, his name is Thaddeus Jones now, but he's not up for visitors just yet."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Wheat and Kyle rode into Thunder Ridge that afternoon. Preacher and Lobo arrived just before sundown. Lobo had a practical suggestion.

"Has anyone tried smelling salts?"

"Doc Beauregard never even suggested it!"

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"His nose twitched, a little bit," said Kyle. "I'm sure of it!"

"What else can we try?"

The pungent odor of a raw onion was followed by a whiff of Jenny's strong Parisian perfume. Clem's vanilla extract was next. Throughout the evening, a variety of odiferous objects were tried and discarded. Mrs. Henderson drew the line at the dead skunk.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Mr. and Mrs. McCreedy and their two year old son Cesar arrived on a private stage from Red Rock Texas early the next morning. Georgette Sinclair arrived slightly before noon.

"You'll have to share a room with your friend Clem and Miss Markham. I do allow three to a bed," informed Mrs. Henderson. At George's protest, the woman shrugged her shoulders and replied, "I gave the last private room to the McCreedy's.

Sheriff Coltrane from Clarendon Texas arrived later that afternoon, accompanied by Lom. Whether it was professional courtesy or just two old friends riding along, Heyes wasn't quite sure. Lom's eyebrows went up at the site of the Devil's Hole gang.

"Don't want no trouble boys," growled Lom with his best official glower.

"We ain't leavin'," objected Wheat. His chin jutted out as he continued, "least ways, not until we know Kid is alright."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Heyes left all the new arrivals to fend for themselves. He went to check on his partner again. Heyes met Clem in the hallway leading to Kid's door.

"What are you doing out here?" asked Heyes.

"Looking for you," replied Clem.

"You left Matt alone with Kid!" exclaimed Heyes as he hurried past her and moved down the corridor. "She's dangerous!"

"Heyes, she came all the way from Texas just to see him. What do you think she's gonna do to him?" demanded Clem.

Heyes pushed open the bedroom door. The sight that awaited him was not something he'd ever thought to see. Matt leaned over Kid's bed. Her lips firmly pressed against Kid's mouth. At the sound of the door opening, Matt raised her blonde head up and looked at Heyes and Clem. The tall woman's face reddened. Heyes stepped into the room.

"What are you doing?" snapped Heyes.

The tall blonde woman ducked her head and somehow managed to look both defiant and embarrassed.

"Nothing," said Matt in a low soft voice, "You'll think I'm being stupid."

"I'm the one brought the goat in here, remember?" reminded Heyes. "And I'm seriously thinking about sneaking a skunk inside, in spite of Mrs. Henderson's objections. Nothing's stupid if it wakes him up!"

Matt didn't meet his eyes, instead she looked back at Kid. She gently traced the side of Kid's face. Heyes caught his breath. Was he imagining things? Or did Kid's face lean in towards her palm?

"When I was a little girl," she whispered, "my mother used to read stories. There was one about a sleeping princess."

Brown eyes blinked in surprise. Heyes knew that story. While Grampa Curry spun tall tales, Arthur Heyes read aloud nearly every night to his children. Sleeping Beauty had been Cleo's favorite. The princess was awakened by a kiss.

"I had to try," declared Matt.

Heyes blinked back the sudden moisture in his eyes. For the first time since he had met Matt, mistaking her for a boy, and later thinking her a dangerous murderess who nearly got his partner killed, Heyes felt he was finally seeing a glimpse of the real woman. A woman who wanted Kid to wake up just as desperately as Heyes did. He glanced at his partner. Kid remained still. Heyes swallowed. Desperation, and the magic that is love, made people do the darnedest things.

"I don't think it's a stupid idea," said Heyes softly. Brown eyes gazed directly into her blue eyes. "In fact, I might try kissing him myself to wake him…"

"Appreciate the thought partner," Kid's voice rasped, "but I don't really think that's necessary."

"Kid," exclaimed Heyes joyfully, "you're awake!"

"That's what I'm telling you," replied the long limbed man as he struggled to sit up. Kid looked from Heyes to Clem to Matt. "What's going on? What are you doing here?"

Heyes, Clem and Matt all began speaking at once. Kid's blue eyes blinked as he looked from one person to another as he tried to understand the babble.

"Five days?" asked Kid finally.

"Don't go scaring me like that again partner," replied Heyes with an emphatic nod.

Kid turned to look at the woman standing at his side. Matt had backed up against the wall and stood with her hands clasped in front of her. She kept rubbing her hands back and forth, and it looked like she was biting her bottom lip.

"I missed you kissing me?" asked Kid. At Matt's nod, Kid added softly, "Do you think we could try that part again?"

Matt's face lit up with a happy smile. As the tall blonde woman stepped away from the wall, Clem pulled Heyes backwards by the waistband of his buff colored pants. Heyes just had time to see Matt lean down to Kid and wrap her arms around his shoulders before Clem pulled the bedroom door closed right in front of his face.

"Kid! Matt! Did you see…," spluttered Heyes.

"We're not the only ones who love him," reminded Clem as she put a finger to Heyes' lips.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"We should tell the others that Kid is awake," suggested Clem after a moment's silence.

Heyes continued to stare at the bedroom door. After days of waiting, hoping, praying, for Kid to wake, it was somewhat disconcerting to be hauled out of his partner's room.

"Come on Heyes," urged Clem.

The bedroom door opened. Matt's face was a little flushed. Heyes glimpsed his partner's smiling face behind her. The tall blonde woman beckoned to Heyes.

"He's hungry, but I don't think he should try standing on his own yet," said Matt. "Together, do you think we can get him to the table?"

Heyes' lips curled back in the first real smile that had been seen on his face in days. The dimpled man remembered his cousin telling him once that love isn't about more or less, it just is. If Kid wanted Matt around, that was gonna be just fine with Heyes.

"How about if I get him dressed first," suggested Heyes. "Then we can take him to supper, together."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

An excited babble of greetings and well wishes erupted when Heyes and Matt brought Kid to Mrs. Henderson's big dining room.

"Careful of my ribs," protested Kid with a chuckle when Jenny hugged him too hard.

Kyle nudged Wheat. Wheat elbowed Preacher, who then backed up into Lobo. The entire Devil's Hole gang grinned to see Kid up and about, but their pushing and shoving worried Heyes.

"At the other end of the table," ordered Heyes. He pointed past the McCreedy family, Jenny and Georgette. "Don't knock anything over."

Heyes insisted on settling his partner at the head of the long rectangular table. Clem brought a footstool to prop up Kid's injured leg. Mrs. Henderson began serving dinner. Heyes found himself seated between Kid and Clem. A platter of roast beef was followed around the table by bowls of mashed potatoes, green beans and carrots. Biscuits disappeared before Heyes got one. Doctor Beauregard looked into the room and shook his head.

"You should be resting," chided the medical man.

"I've been resting!" protested Kid.

Matt, seated opposite Heyes, reached for Kid's hand and squeezed it tightly. Beside her, Sheriff Coltrane's eyebrows went up. The steely eyed man looked across the table at Heyes as if he was somehow to blame for this sudden familiarity. But not everyone stayed for dinner. Lom tapped Heyes on the shoulder and leaned down to whisper in his ear.

"Heyes," informed Lom. "I'll be coming back in two days with a federal marshal and a judge."

"What for?" asked Heyes.

"A man is dead," reminded Lom, "there's gonna be an inquest."

-x-x-x-x-x-x


	12. Texas Trouble Comes To Town

Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same story verse as Kid Plans and South By Southeast, but should also stand alone.

Texas Trouble Comes To Town

-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Did they do an inquest in Matherville?" asked Kid later that evening.

Heyes settled his partner back on the big double bed. Behind Kid, Clem fluffed the feather pillows.

"No," answered Clem. At Heyes startled glance, the hazel eyed woman, explained, "I checked. After you boys told me… I just wanted to make sure… no one was looking for you."

"Nobody ever heard of Danny Bilson," reminded Matt softly. Heyes glanced at his partner. Had Kid told her about Danny? The tall woman leaned against the open door. "The death of Kid Curry… that's a different story."

"But I ain't dead!" huffed Kid. "Why doesn't Lom just tell everybody the man was Henry P. McIntyre and quit talking about Kid Curry? We don't need this kind of attention!"

"I don't know Kid," answered Heyes. "Maybe because the newspaper got it all wrong, now it has to be straightened out official like."

"Are you going to stay for the inquest?" asked Georgette. The tall slender brunette leaned against the doorway. "Why don't you boys just leave?"

Heyes glanced at Kid. Wordlessly, the partners reached a mutual understanding.

"Deputy Jones has to stay, otherwise people might start asking even more questions," answered Heyes. "But the inquest is only to determine the cause of death. There shouldn't be any trouble."

"If Lom ever asks me to be a deputy again," grumbled Kid, "remind me to say no."

Clem and Matt moved to join Georgette at the doorway. The ladies bade Curry and Heyes goodnight. Heyes pushed the door shut as they left, then turned to face his partner. Heyes leaned back on the door and crossed his arms.

"So…," began Heyes with a smirk, "you and Matt…"

"Don't go making too much of it Heyes," interrupted Kid with a scowl. "It was just one kiss. It don't mean nothin'."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

The next morning, two former outlaws were surprised to find that the visitors at Thunder Ridge all decided to stay for the impending inquest. All of them.

"Are you sure?" asked Heyes. The former Devil's Hole leader was touched at the show of solidarity, but concerned for the four outlaws. He reminded, "Lom said he's bringing a federal marshal."

"We weren't planning on introducing ourselves," informed Wheat with a huff. "We'll keep outta sight."

Kyle, Preacher and Lobo all nodded in agreement.

"And iffen you and Kid need an escape plan we want to help," volunteered Kyle. "I brung some dynamite."

"I don't think we need any dynamite just yet," replied Heyes.

The strategist shook his head as the foursome backed out of the room he shared with his partner. Kid's blue eyes rolled in exasperation.

"Does Kyle ever _not_ have dynamite?" demanded Kid.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Two days later, Lom returned with the marshal and the circuit court judge. Everybody in town turned out to see them ride in. The judge dismounted, looked around the tiny town of Thunder Ridge and pursed his lips disdainfully.

"No courthouse I see," sniffed the man. "Where are we going to hold the inquest?"

"The dining room at my boarding house is large," offered Mrs. Henderson.

"Or you can use my stable," added Uriah.

The judge glanced around the crowd. Aside from the population of Thunder Ridge, including Mrs. Henderson's boarders, there were a variety of new faces. Two buckboard wagons arrived earlier that morning from nearby homesteads. Additionally, curious folk from Porterville, including a young newspaper reporter, had made the long ride to Thunder Ridge. Mrs. Henderson's dining room wasn't going to be big enough.

"Stable," decided the judge as he shook his head. "Set up a table and chairs and I'll begin taking take depositions."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

A wide plank spread between two barrels served as the table. Two of Mrs. Henderson's dining room chairs were brought out for the judge and his clerk. Other chairs were also brought for the spectators. One of the curious folk, a slim man from Porterville, turned out to be the court clerk. The man sat next to the judge and pulled out pen and paper. The marshal stayed behind the judge watching the gathered crowd. The judge called Lom to testify first.

"Name of the dead man?" asked the judge in a bored tone.

"Henry P. McIntyre," answered Lom. The Porterville lawman reached inside his vest and pulled out a large square folded paper. He placed it down on the table in front of the judge. "Here is the subpoena for McIntyre. He was wanted for bank fraud."

For the first time since arriving in Thunder Ridge, the judge looked surprised. The man sat up straight in his chair and pulled Lom's papers towards him.

"What?" asked the judge. "I thought the inquest was for Kid Curry. Who's the dead man?"

"Henry P. McIntyre, I've never called him Kid Curry," responded Lom.

"The newspaper…," began the judge.

The reporter's face flushed, but the forthright young man spoke up.

"That's because of me," admitted the young newsman. "I heard the man shouting about Kid Curry, and I knew he couldn't be talking about Deputy Jones there. Uncle Harker has always spoken quite highly of Thaddeus."

A babble of voices agreed with the reporter. Heyes heard Mrs. Henderson, Uriah Cole, and Lute Morrison's voices loudly echo the young man's sentiments. The judge looked over where Jenny sat next to the McCreedy family, past where Clem, Matt and George stood huddled together, and settled his gaze on the tall blond man beside the open stable door.

"Deputy Jones," called the judge. "Was the man you went to arrest Kid Curry?"

Kid looked startled at the question. Blue eyes glanced towards his partner for a moment, before Kid answered the judge.

"Sir, I wouldn't have gone out after Kid Curry," answered Kid honestly, "but it wasn't until we got to the homestead that I heard the man's name was McIntyre."

"Do you mean you don't know who the dead man is?" demanded the judge. Kid opened his mouth wordlessly. The exasperated judge snapped, "Would you at least say the dead man is not Kid Curry?"

"Yeah," agreed Kid, "he wasn't Kid Curry."

The judge nodded in satisfaction.

"Good, the dead man is McIntyre, not Curry," stated the judge. "Does anybody disagree?"

"Glad we got that settled," whispered Kid as he leaned towards Heyes. "I was beginning to worry that Thaddeus Jones might get a reputation for shooting Kid Curry."

Heyes watched the crowd. Shaking heads and muttered sounds of no seemed to satisfy the judge. Out of the corner of his eye, Heyes noted another rider coming down the trail from Thunder Pass, followed by a buggy full of people. He shook his dark haired head in annoyance. Did people think an inquest was entertainment?

"Now cause of death," continued the judge, "I understand McIntyre was shot…"

"Oh but that didn't kill him," blurted out a voice.

For once in his life, Heyes was happy to hear Neville Beauregard's voice. The judge demanded the doctor repeat his statement for the official record.

"McIntyre was bleeding from the distal…" began Beauregard.

"What?" demanded the judge.

"The tip of his pinkie was shot off," explained Beauregard. "Getting all worked up, shouting and carrying on like he did, is what killed McIntyre. He had a stroke and dropped dead."

"McIntyre died of natural causes," stated the judge. Beauregard nodded. The judge thunked the gavel and pronounced, "Inquest into the death of one Henry P. McIntyre closed."

Lom beckoned to Kid. The two men moved to the judges table. Lom signed some papers and then passed them to Kid. The muscular blond leaned down and scrawled a signature across the forms as well.

"I think we can adjourn…," began the judge.

Kid turned around smiling in relief now that the ordeal seemed over, but Heyes watched as his partner's smile faltered, and disappeared. The muscular blond stared at the man who now limped into the stable. The short rotund man dressed in black stopped beside Heyes. To his horror, Heyes recognized the man from the diner long ago in Clarendon. And that obnoxious man pointed right at Kid.

"Arrest that man! He's Kid Curry!" shouted the new arrival.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

A hubbub of confused voices filled the barn. The judge pounded on the impromptu table with his gavel.

"Quiet! Order!" demanded the judge.

Both Jenny and Big Mac spoke at once.

"Thaddeus isn't Kid Curry, he's my son!"

"Jones is my nephew!" exclaimed McCreedy.

The judge pounded with his gavel again and shouted for order in the stable, but it wasn't until the marshal fired a shot into the loft that people quieted. The short limping man reached the judge's table just as Jenny and McCreedy converged on the judge.

"You," ordered the judge as he pointed from Kid to an upturned crate nearby, "sit over there until I get this straightened out."

The judge nodded to the marshal and the watchful lawman moved closer to Kid. Then the judge turned back to face Jenny, Big Mac and the belligerent man glowering at Kid.

"There seems to be a problem," began the judge.

"Arrest that man!" insisted the loud obnoxious man.

"Don't you dare arrest my son!" exclaimed Jenny. The buxom blonde scowled at the newcomer. "That fool doesn't know what he's talking about…"

"It's defamation of character!" asserted McCreedy. "I'll have my attorney…"

"Quiet!" shouted the judge.

The judge banged the gavel down hard on the plank table. Thump. Little Cesar started crying at the loud noises. Carlotta McCreedy picked up her son and moved towards the rear of the stable to stand next to Heyes. The judge glared at the three people standing closest to his table.

"You don't speak until I say so!"

"But," spluttered the fuming man.

"One more word," snarled the judge, "and it's a week in jail for contempt of court."

The accuser opened his mouth, but then shut it again. The judge frowned and looked around the stable glaring at anyone else who looked like they might want to speak. There was a momentary silence. The judge stared at the rotund little man with a venomous look.

"I could be riding home now, if it weren't for you," hissed the judge. He thunked the gavel again. "Now who in tarnation are you?"

"Lloyd Eugene Carstairs," answered the odious man. "But you should be arresting…"

In front of Heyes, Sheriff Coltrane stood up. The steely eyed Texas lawman raised his voice.

"Judge," called Coltrane, "I have information that may be pertinent."

The judge beckoned Coltrane forward. Heyes glanced across the stable to meet his partner's eyes. They had thought the lawman was their friend. What was Coltrane going to say? Heyes watched the drama in front of him and paid no heed to the arrival of the buggy he had seen earlier.

"State your name and occupation."

"Eustace Lamar Coltrane, Sheriff, Clarendon Texas," replied the Texas lawman.

"And what do you have to say that's so all fired important?" asked the judge.

"Mr. Carstairs was in my jail a few years ago," answered Coltrane. He gestured towards Kid. "Carstairs fired a gun in a public restaurant. He also claimed Mr. Jones was Kid Curry then too…"

"He is Kid Curry I tell you!" interrupted Carstairs. "I was on a train that he robbed. Judge, you need to arrest that man!"

"No!" exclaimed a new voice from behind Heyes.

Heyes turned to look at the most recent arrival. The former outlaw inhaled sharply to see a familiar face, so very like his partner's. Brown eyes turned to gaze back at Kid. And that's when Heyes realized that most of the crowd were looking back and forth between Thaddeus Jones and the tall blond man who now limped towards the judge.

"Who are you?" demanded the irate judge.

"My name is Henry Curry," stated the slim man.

Heyes felt a tugging on his jacket. He looked down to see a small girl with reddish blonde hair.

"I can't see my Papa," confided the little girl. She nodded towards an older woman standing next to an auburn haired woman holding a baby. "Grammy said I could ask you to pick me up."

Heyes looked incredulously at the gray haired woman. Her hands were clasped together beneath her chin. A familiar dimpled smile lit up her face. Heyes gulped.

"What's your name?" asked Heyes softly.

"Mary Moira Curry," answered the blue eyed child. "What's yours?"

"I'll be glad to lift you up," responded Heyes without answering her question. He scooped the little girl up in his arms and turned in time to hear Henry state his full name for the clerk.

"Henry Edward Charles Richard William Spencer Curry," declared Henry. "I'm Jedidiah Curry's older brother, and I can understand Mr. Carstairs mistake. I just hope Mr. Carstairs doesn't start thinking I'm Kid Curry too."

Most of the people crowded around the judge's table laughed at Henry's remark. Heyes watched as Henry paused and gave a sad smile to Thaddeus Jones.

"Who's the man that looks like Papa?" whispered the child, but Heyes didn't answer that question either.

"Let's listen to your father," replied the soft spoken Kansan.

"Mr. Jones does look like my brother," stated Henry firmly, "but I've never seen that man before."

"No! No!" shouted Carstairs. The rotund man pointed towards Kid. "That man is Kid Curry…"

"Judge," interrupted Coltrane, "may I finish my statement?"

The judge looked at the Texas sheriff in surprise.

"You had something else you wanted to say?" asked the judge.

"Yeah," growled Coltrane. The lawman pointed at Carstairs. "When Carstairs was in my jail, he said he worked for Henry P. McIntyre."

Lom bolted up out of the chair he was sitting in. He pulled another folded paper from his vest pocket and waved it.

"McIntyre had an accomplice, and you fit the description," declared Lom. "I'm taking you back to Porterville."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Lom left Thunder Ridge first with Lloyd Eugene Carstairs in handcuffs. The judge, the marshal, the folks in the buckboard wagons and the folks from Porterville, including young reporter Wilkins, followed the lawman shortly afterwards. The young reporter was all fired up about reporting the arrest of a bank examiner turned bank robber.

"Are you gonna write a correction to the article you wrote last week?" asked Heyes.

McCreedy's private coach and team were ready to leave next. The Texas businessman offered a ride to Clem and George. The luggage, including three different hatboxes all belonging to George, was stowed on top. Heyes offered a hand to Mrs. McCreedy.

"Nephew Thaddeus looks happy," observed Carlotta with a knowing smile.

Heyes turned to see Kid, Matt, and Jenny standing with McCreedy and little Cesar by the front of the stage. They were laughing at something that Heyes couldn't hear. Mrs. McCreedy leaned towards Heyes and whispered.

"I like this sister of my husband better than the other one from Kentucky," confided Carlotta. "What do you think?"

Heyes looked past Jenny to the family gathered on Mrs. Henderson's porch. Henry Curry had retrieved his daughter after Lom arrested Carstairs, with a whisper…_Later, when there aren't so many people around, we need to talk_.

"Jenny's great, but I don't remember ever meeting Thaddeus' aunt," replied Heyes as the woman climbed into the stage.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Hugs! The happy kind that leave a body gasping for air and grinning like a loon. That's the kind of hugs Clem always gave. The McCreedy family and George were already seated inside the coach, but Heyes held on tight, breathing in the familiar scent of vanilla.

"You can reach me in Denver if you need me," whispered Clem. With a sidelong glance at where Kid stood with Matt, Clem added, "And if you or Kid are ever thinking about settling down…"

"Clem," smirked Heyes, as he set her feet gently back on the ground, "you know I would never marry anyone except you, or maybe George."

"George!?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Sheriff Coltrane led his horse from Uriah's corral as McCreedy's coach left Thunder Ridge. The Texas lawman tipped his white hat at Heyes.

"Mattie says she want to stay a while longer, she likes mountains," growled Coltrane. He glanced at the porch where Matt and Jenny were now sitting with the Curry family. Kid pushed little Mary Moira on a swing in the nearby yard. "But I'll be going back to Clarendon. Like I keep tellin' you, you boys are welcome there anytime."

"Thank you Sheriff," replied Heyes.

Heyes remembered some of Artie Gorman's old tales. And he hadn't forgotten when Coltrane said once that he and Artie rode together when they were young and wild. Added to that comment, the sheriff's full name Eustace Lamar Coltrane led to some interesting speculation. Heyes grinned.

"Sheriff, you wouldn't happen to know an outlaw by the name of Stacy Cole?" asked Heyes. "I heard he retired years ago and moved south."

"Don't know what you're talking about," huffed Coltrane as he mounted his horse.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Heyes moved to join Kid and little Mary Moira at the swing. The little girl squealed happily as Kid pushed her higher and higher.

"I hear Matt's staying," prodded Heyes in a low tone. He glanced at the tall blonde woman on the porch. Was his partner seriously interested in the woman? He prodded some more. "She's pretty good for a bad girl that likes outlaws."

"Don't make nothing of it Heyes," warned Kid. "Matt ain't the only one staying."

"Yeah," began Heyes, "but Jenny…"

"I meant the boys," interrupted Kid. "Wheat, Kyle, Lobo and Preacher are up at the cabin."

"They're where?" asked Heyes in disbelief.

Kid gestured to the cabin on the side of the mountain.

"Up at the house," answered Kid. "I said they could stay awhile if they shingled the roof."

"They don't want to go back to Devil's Hole?"

"Not just yet," answered Kid. "Kyle was real excited about the mine, wanted to go exploring."

"Kyle better not even think of using dynamite!"

Henry's voice called from the front porch. Mary Moira jumped off the swing. To Heyes eyes, the child seemed to hover in midair for a moment before landing safely on the ground.

"Pa's calling," beckoned the child. "He means you too…"

A glimpse of white petticoats and pantaloons flashed as little Mary Moira ran towards the porch. Uncertain brown eyes turned to meet the blue eyes of his partner. Kid stared at Henry.

"It's been nearly twenty-five years since we've seen Henry," sighed Kid as he shook his head, "and the first thing he does is disown me."

"Don't think of it as being disowned, Henry was just trying to protect you," advised Heyes.

"Protect me?" snorted Kid in disbelief.

"Yeah, like what Clarence did with his will and the family tree he had written in the Bible," explained Heyes. "Everybody here knows you're Thaddeus Jones. And if any more strangers come saying you're Kid Curry, no one's gonna believe 'em. That outlaw's own brother said in front of a judge and a federal marshal, you're not Kid Curry."

"But why would anyone believe Henry over Carstairs?" asked Kid. "They're both strangers here."

"Kid, Henry looks like someone they already know and trust," replied Heyes with a smirk. "You."

Kid shook his curly blond head, then turned to look at their friends and relatives on the porch. Henry opened the door and ushered his mother-in-law, wife and children inside. Jenny followed, but Matt shook her head and stayed on the porch as the tall blond man entered the boarding house.

"We don't know them."

"And they don't know us," reminded Heyes. "Mary Moira asked me what my name was earlier and I didn't know what to tell her."

Heyes clapped his partner between the shoulder blades.

"Let's go get acquainted."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Heyes followed Kid up the steps to Mrs. Henderson's wide front porch. The brisk wind tugged at their clothing. Matt stood by the porch railing with her arms crossed watching the gathering clouds above the pass.

"Matt," asked Kid, "what the matter?"

"I don't like storms," whispered Matt as she watched the darkening sky. Matt shuddered. "Ma died when I was thirteen. Lightning struck our home, caused a fire…"

"Sssh, Mattie," soothed Kid as he pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. "That storm ain't coming here."

Heyes' eyebrows went up. And Kid said nothing! Hmmph! Indeed!

"Yeah," agreed Heyes, "The valley is sheltered from the worst of the weather. Mostly we just hear the thunder."

The front door opened and little Mary Moira stuck her head outside.

"Grammy says you need to come inside, now."

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Heyes, Kid and Matt followed little Mary Moira down Mrs. Henderson's hallway towards the parlor. As they passed the door to the kitchen, Jenny flashed a bright smile at them.

"We're just starting supper," called Mrs. Henderson. "We'll call you when it's ready."

Heyes stepped through the open door into the parlor. Across the room, he could see the gray haired woman with the dimpled smile sitting in an overstuffed chair by the fireplace. The woman started to get up, but the auburn haired woman placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Mama," cajoled the beautiful redhead, "you need to rest, remember."

Heyes attention turned back to his partner as Kid gave a startled squawk. Henry's long arms wrapped Kid in a great big bear hug.

"For so long, I thought everyone was dead," exclaimed Henry.

"We thought you were dead too," responded Kid. His face turned sideways and pressed into his brother's shoulder. Heyes could see the tears threatening to spill over from Kid's blue eyes. Then Kid expressed a heartfelt sentiment that Heyes had heard once before. "Glad you ain't."

The older blond man released Kid and turned on Heyes. Before the dark haired Kansan had a chance to escape he found himself captured in a warm embrace.

"We came to Kansas when the war ended, but no one had any records of you boys," choked out Henry. "It wasn't until the newspaper reported Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry were the leaders of one of the worst band of desperados in the West that I realized you were still alive."

"So are you saying that being an outlaw is a good thing?" asked Heyes with a smirk.

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Heyes' joke released the tension in the room. There were hugs and kisses and tears all around as the stories of the lost years came out. Now, the dark haired man leaned against the wall and watched as Kid and Matt chatted with Henry and his wife Eileen. Eileen passed baby Owen to Matt.

"If he starts crying," warned Matt, "you're getting him back!"

Heyes felt a tug on his brown jacket. Brown eyes looked down to see Mary Moira again.

"Do you want me to pick you up again?" asked Heyes.

"No," replied the child shaking her head. "Grammy wants you to come sit with her."

Heyes watched Mary Moira cross the room towards her parents. The child soon had Kid holding her up on his hip where she could be at face level with the adults. Heyes smiled and turned towards the gray haired woman with the familiar dimpled smile.

"Aunt Katie," greeted Heyes as he sat down beside the woman. He wondered, was this what his own mother would have looked like?

Katie Smythe reached out and patted his arm. If anything, the warm dimpled smile grew even broader.

"You look so much like your father, except you've got Moira's smile," said the old woman softly. "You've grown into a fine man."

"Not quite sure that everyone would agree with that…" chuckled Heyes.

"Then they're wrong!" interrupted Aunt Katie. The frail woman reached for a familiar black leather bound book. "I thought you might want to see what your cousins Caleb and Joseph looked like."

"You've got pictures?"

Heyes stared enthralled as Aunt Katie opened the Bible and pulled out a collection of photographs, tintypes and two small hand painted portraits.

"Ma had those same portraits," exclaimed Heyes.

Aunt Katie's hands shook as she passed the portraits to Heyes. Dark brown eyes gazed upon the familiar faces.

"That's my father with his first wife, your grandmother," reminded Katie softly. She pointed at the second portrait. "That's father with my mother."

"I remember these pictures," replied Heyes as he looked at Grampa's smiling face.

"Do you remember this one?" asked Aunt Katie.

Heyes gulped and nodded. The tintype showed Arthur Heyes seated in a straight back chair. Han's father held baby Cleopatra. Moira Curry Heyes sat next to him in a similar chair. Standing between their parents, Ptolomy and Hannibal looked uncomfortable.

"We had to stand so still, I thought I was going to turn into a statue," remembered Heyes.

Katie withdrew another tintype from the pile in her hands.

"This one was taken on their wedding day" offered Aunt Katie.

Heyes looked at the picture of his smiling, happy parents. He'd never seen this tintype before. Dark haired Arthur Heyes held his arm around slim, curly haired, dimpled Moira.

"Fionn broke my heart when he asked Moira to marry him," confided Aunt Katie. "But at least in my case, a twelve year old heart healed fast."

Brown eyes blinked in surprise. Aunt Katie had used the same name Grampa had called Arthur Heyes long ago.

"What? Fionn?" asked Heyes. "Why do you call my father Fionn?"

"Well that was his name of course," answered Aunt Katie.

"You must mean a nickname. My father's name was Arthur Heyes," insisted the dark haired Kansan. "He was a schoolteacher."

"Your father was a history professor at Trinity University in Dublin, long before he taught school in the United States," responded Aunt Katie.

"I know Pa came from Dublin," said Heyes

"Your father was fired for his political beliefs," added Aunt Katie. "Threats were made against his life. Fionn left Ireland at least ten years before we Curry's did. Moira met your father in Philadelphia."

At Heyes' questioning look, she reached out and patted him on the arm again.

"People emigrated from Ireland for political reasons, and lots of other reasons," said Aunt Katie softly, "long before the Gorta Mór."

"But… Fionn?" asked Heyes.

"Oh laddie," chuckled Aunt Katie, "you don't think Arthur Heyes is a proper Irish name, do you?"

"Do you mean Heyes is an alias?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x

Moonlight shone brightly through the windowpanes of the room Heyes shared with Kid. The partners had decided to stay at Mrs. Henderson's boarding house while the Curry family and Aunt Katie visited Thunder Ridge. Plans were already in progress for Thaddeus Jones and Joshua Smith to pay a return visit to their relative's Cheyenne home. Heyes paced across the bedroom floor as the events of the day replayed themselves in his mind.

"Did we ever check Clem's Bible for those photographs?" asked Heyes.

"Heyes," grumbled Kid, the blond man rolled over on his side facing away from Heyes. "I'm trying to sleep here."

"Kid," said Heyes, "I've been thinking…"

"Heyes, your thinking is what gets us into trouble."

-x-x-x-x-x-x


End file.
